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Ayf>          PS; 

HANDELL    HUNT,    ESQ. 


O, 

MY  Hi:*"  RANDCLL: 


I  AM  reminded,  in.  patting  forth  this  little  volume,  or  the 
interest  which  you  took,  nearly  twelve  years  ago,  in 
the  fortunes  of  another  work  of  similar  dimensions— my  first 
experiment  in  prose  literature,  Martin  Faber,— which  was  then 
issued  from  the  press.  The  inscription  of  the  present  volume 
with  your  name,  may  serve  to  recal,  not  unpleasantly  to 
your  memory,  with  the  circumstances  of  that  period,  the 
recollection  of 

THE  AUTHOB. 

AVwFor*,  Oct.  1,  1844 


DUOPAGE 


Reproduced  by  XEROGRAPHY 
by  Micro  Photo  Inc. 
Cleveland  12,  Ohio 


HELEN  HALSEY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  unwise  license  and  injurious  freedoms  ac 
corded  to  youth  in  our  day  and  country,  will  ren 
der  it  unnecessary  to  explain  how  it  was  that, 
with  father  and  mother,  a  good  homestead,  and 
excellent  resources,  I  was  yet  suffered  at  the 
early  age  of  eighteen,  to  set  out  on  a  desultory 
and  almost  purposeless  expedition,  among  some 
of  the  wildest  regions  of  the  South- West.  It 
would  be  as  unnecessary  and,  perhaps,  much 
more  difficult,  to  show  \vhat  were  my  own  mo 
tives  in  undertaking  such  a  journey.  A  truant 
disposition,  a  love  of  adventure,  or,  possibly,  the 
stray  glances  of  some  forest  maiden,  may  all  be 
assumed  as  good  and  sufficient  reasons,  to  set  a 
warm  heart  wandering,  and  provoke  wild  im 
pulses  in  the  blood  of  one,  by  nature  impetuous 
enough,  and,  by  education,  very  much  the  master 
of  his  own  will.  With  a  proud  heart,  hopeful  of  all 
things  if  thoughtless  of  any,  as  noble  a  steed  as 


6  .      HELEN    IIALHEY. 

ever  shook  a  sable  mane  over  a  sunny  prairie,  and 
enough  money,  liberally  calculated,  to  permit  an 
occasional  extravagance,  whether  in  excess  or 
charity,  I  set  out  one  sunny  winter's  morning 
from  Leaside,  our  family  ploce,  carrying  with  me 
the  tearful  blessings  of  my  mother,  and  os  kind  a 
farewell  from  my  father,  as  could  decently  com 
port  with  the  undisguised  displeasure  with  which 
he  had  encountered  the  first  expression  of  my 
wish  to  go  abroad.  Well  might  he  disapprove 
of  a  determination  which  was  so  utterly  without 
an  object.  But  our  discussion  on  this  point  need 
not  be  resumed.  Enough,  that,  if  "  my  path  was 
all  before  me,"  I  was  utterly  without  a  guide. 
It  was,  besides,  my  purpose  to  go  where  there 
were  few  if  any  paths ;  regions  as  wild  as  they 
were  pathless ;  among  strange  tribes  and  races ; 
about  whose  erring  and  impulsive  natures  we 
now  and  then  heard  such  tales  of  terror,  and  of 
wonder,  as  carried  us  back  to  the  most  venerable 
periods  of  feudal  history,  and  seemed  to  promise 
us  a  full  return  and  realization  of  their  strangest 
and  saddest  legends,  Of  stories  such  as  these, 
the  boy  sees  only  the  wild  and  picturesque  as 
pects, — such  as  are  beautiful  with  a  startling 
beauty — such  as  impress  his  imagination  rathei 
than  his  thoughts,  and  presenting  the  truth  to  hi& 
eyes  through  the  medium  of  his  fancies,  divest  it 
of  whatever  is  coarse,  or  cold,  or  cruel,  in  its 
composition.  It  was  thus  that  I  had  heard  of 
these  things,  and  thus  that,  instead  of  repelling,  as 


HELEN    IIALBEY.  7 

they  would  have  done,  robbed  of  that  charm  of 
distance  which  equally  beautifies  in  the  moral  as 
in  the  natural  world,  they  invited  my  footsteps, 
and  seduced  me  from  the  more  appropriate  do 
mestic  world  in  which  my  lot  had  been  cast. 

With  a  light  heart,  full  of  expectation,  a  free 
steed  that  seemed  rather  to  swim  along  through 
space,  than  tread  monotonously  over  the  rugged 
ground,  the  day  passed  away  with  an  almost  un 
noted  flight,     My  eyes  had  been  charmed  in  the 
observation  of  trees  and  groves,  picturesque  ob 
jects  of  sight  in  hill  and  dale,  wood  and  water, 
and  such  occasional  more  worldly  matters,  as 
were  provoked  by  long  ranges  of  whitened  cot 
ton  fields,  or  yellow  corn  yet  bristling  in  unbroken 
rows.    At  the  close  of  the  day,  I  had  reached  a 
cabin  where  I  found  shelter  for  the  night,  and  at 
early  dawn,  I  again  set  forth,  with  the  promise 
of  another  day  of  generous  sunshine.     This  day 
was  consumed  like  the  last,  and  with  equal  satis 
faction  to  myself.     The  buoyant  spirit  of  youth 
rises  in  exultation  in  any  exercise,  which  seems  to 
impart  equal  freedom  to  soul  and  body ;  and  there 
is  something  of  the  same  triumphant  pulse  in  the 
heart,  galloping  over  the  prairies,  over  the  hills,  or 
through  the  long  cathedral  ranges  of  gigantic  pine 
forests,  which  one  feels  on  the  deck  of  a  fine  ship, 
careering  over  the  billows  of  the  broad  Atlantic, 
with  a  breeze  that  sends  the  foam  flying  at  every 
plunge,  from  the  bold  prow  of  the  imperial  vessel. 
The  man  is  wonderfully  lifted  with  the  conscious- 


8  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

ness  of  having  at  his  command,  and  being  able  to 
command,  such  a  n^ble  animal  as  the  horse,  and 
rapidity  of  motion  is  the  source  of  an  intoxication, 
of  a  sublime  sort,  of  the  character  of  which  we 
can  form  a,  good  conception  from  the  interest  we 
take  in  a  race,  whether  of  steeds  or  steamboats ; 
the  danger  of  being  hurled  down  by  the  one  or 
blown  up  by  the  other,  being,  in  both  cases,  ab 
solutely  and  entirely  forgotten.     Mine  was  a  na 
ture  particularly  to  exult  in  such  exercises,  my 
temperament  being  wholly  sanguine,  and  the  in 
dulgence  of  my  parents  having  left  it  to  an  unre 
strained  exercise,  which  rendered  it  feverishly 
irritable  when  not  engaged  in  such  performances 
as  were  grateful  to  my  excitable  imagination. 
After  the  close  of  the  second  day  of  my  journey, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  both  my  horse  and  self  could 
have  begun  anew,  with  a  more  buoyant  spirit 
than  before, — as  if  the  toil  itself  refreshed  us,  and 
as  if  no  more  grateful  object  lay  before  us,  than 
just  be  permitted  to  be  wander  on,  and  on, — "  the 
world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot/'     Certain 
ly,  the  true  secret  of  perpetual  life,  is  perpetual 
motion.     Find  the  one,  and  we  secure  the  other. 
Alas!  the  want  of  daylight,  is  the  great  draw 
back  to  our  progress  and  discoveries.     We  have 
just  begun  to  make  them  when  the  curtain  falls 
upon  us. 

The  close  of  the  second  day  brought  me  to  the 
foot  of  a  long  range  of  hills,  the  lower  steps  pos 
sibly  of  the  great  Apalachian  chain,  inclining  to 


IIELI:N  HALSEY.  9 

the  Mississippi.     It  also  brought  me  to  the  very 
borders  of  what  was  in  that  day,  known  as  the 
region  of  doubt  and  shadow.     I  had  reached  the 
confines  of  civilization— even  such  imperfect  civi 
lization  as  belonged  to  our  thinly  settled  frontiers. 
I  was  now  ninety  miles  from  Leaside,  and  only 
separated  by  a  narrow  wall  of  hills  from  that 
strange  region  of  forest  mystery  and  romance, 
about  which  so  many  surprising  stories  had  been 
told  me.     This  also  was  the  Indian  country — 
here  the  red  men  still  lingered,  mixed  up  with 
reckless,  renegade  whites,  who  preferred  the  wild 
privileges  of  savage,  to  the  more  wholesome,  but 
seemingly  less  attractive  pleasures,  of  civilized 
life.     As  I  thought  over  this  taste,  I  cold  not  but 
shudder  to  discover  that  such  also,  to  some  ex 
tent,  was  the  feeling  in  my  own  bosom.     But  I 
was  too  young  to  encourage  unpleasant  refteC" 
tions,  and  for  these  but  little  time  was  allowed 
me.     Just  on  the  edge  of  this  neutral  ground — 
this  debateable  land — neither  savage  nor  social 
— stood  a  house  that  has  since  had  more  than  one 
remarkable  history.     It  was  a  miserable  shell  of 
logs,  roughly  hewn,  of  two  stories,  to  which,  in 
the  rear,  was  appended  a  long  shed  of  frame 
work,  intended  to  contain  some  three  chambers, 
or,  upon  a  press  of  company — passage  way  in- 
cluded-r-possibly  four.    It  was  a  public  of  noto 
rious  resort — standing  almost  astride  the  area, 
from  which  diverged  four  roads,  leading  to  as 
many  different  quarters  of  country.    It  was  con- 


10  HELEN    HA1.SEY. 

sequently  much  frequented,  and  the  landlord, 
who  will  probably  be  well  remembered  by  many 
as  Jephson  Yannaker,  was,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
speak,  doing  a  thriving  business.  There  were 
many  witless  lads  like  myself,  travelling  for  their 
humors,  and  many  more,  not  so  witless,  but  more 
reckless,  travelling  in  the  same  regions — at  our 
expense,  I  had  not  much  time  allowed  me  to 
examine  the  exterior  of  this  establishment,  before 
a  stout,  shock-headed,  burly,  red-faced,  but  kind 
ly  looking  personage,  whom  I  soon  learned  to  be 
Yannaker  himself,  advanced  from  the  door-way 
to  the  head  of  my  horse. 

"Come,  'light,  stranger, — you're  just  in  time  to 
shake  a  leg  with  the  best  of  them.  'Light  1  I'll 
see  to  the  critter/' 

His  words  were  explained  a  moment  aftef,  as 
the  discordant  twang  of  a  half-tuned  fiddle  smote 
my  ears  from  the  interior.  In  entering,  I  had 
just  time  to  discover  that  several  horses  were 
hitched  to  neighboring  trees,  and  on  one  side  of 
the  premises,  but  rather  nearer  to  the  house,  there 
stood  a  sort  of  travelling  carriage  of  rude  struc 
ture — a  strong,  unwieldy  vehicle,  to  which  two 
able  draught  horses  were  still  partially  attached. 
From  a  few  bundles  of  fodder  at  their  feet,  it 
seemed  to  be  the  design  of  their  driver,  who  was 
busy  in  the  carnage,  that  they  should  enjoy  their 
forage  where  they  stood. 

But  the  sight  within  made  me  forget  every 
thing  without.  The  hall  ran  nearly  the  whole 


HELEN    IIALSEY.  11 

length  of  the  building,  and  it  was  comparatively 
a  large  one.  A  bright  fire  was  blazing  in  the 
chimney,  and  a  matter  of  thirty  person?,  or  even 
more,  were  strewn  around  the  apartment.  Of 
these,  though  less  than  hal£  a  fair  proportion 
were  women.  Near  the  fire  sat  the  fiddler,  the 
croakings  and  creakings  of  whose  crazy  instru 
ment  had  assaulted  me  on  my  first  arrival.  He 
was  still  busy  in  the  seemingly  hopeless  task  of 
screwing  its  strings  into  something  like  sympho- 
nious  exercise  and  utterance.  He  was  a  plain 
country  lad,  in  homespun,  with  a  cap  of  coonskin 
still  clinging  to  his  head,  which  swung  pendu- 
lously  over  his  fiddle,  as  he  now  jerked  at  the 
keys,  and  now  jostled  with  the  bow. 

But  there  was  nothing  in  his  appearance  calcu 
lated  to  detain  my  glance.  This  now  roved 
about  the  assembly,  which  promised  to  be  as 
interesting  as  it  was  certainly  promiscuous  and 
picturesque.  The  men  were  stout  fellows  all, 
of  the  true  farm-yard  breed,  famous  at  the  flail, 
and  with  fists,  whose  seeming  efficiency  reminded 
me  more  than  once  of  the  powers  ascribed  to 
those  of  Maximin,  the  Gaul,  who  could*  fell  a 
bullock  at  a  blow.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  they 
had  prepared  themselves  for  the  festivities  they 
were  about  to  enjoy.  Their  costume  was  that 
of  the  farm-yard.  Plain  blue  or  yellow  home 
spun,  rough  shoes,  and,  though  the  winter  had 
fairly  set  in,  many  were  the  bronzed  and  naked 


12  HELEN    HALSEY. 

breasts  displayed  by  the  open  shirt  of  coarse 
cotton.  The  frolic,  so  .far  as  they  were  con 
cerned,  "was  evidently  extempore.  They  •md 
been  suffered  no  time  for  the  toilet.  But  this  did 
not  seem  greatly  to  abash  them.  The  unconven 
tional  world  in  which  they  lived,  had  rendered 
them  somewhat  insensible  to  that  feeling  of 
mauvaise  honte,  which  would  have  been  sure, 
in  such  a  case,  to  have  distressed  the  half  civil 
ized  lad  to  an  immeasurable  extent.  They  show 
ed  no  conccjrn  at  the  matter,  but  dashed  forward, 
each  to  his  favorite  lass,  as  coolly  and  confidently 
as  if  fasliion  had  received  her  dues,  and  the  toilet 
all  the  necessary  sacrifices.  And  there  was,  in 
this  very  freedom,  a  sort  of  savage  grace,  wTiich 
greatly  tended  to  lessen  the  rudeness  of  its  gene 
ral  aspects.  Most  of  the  fellows  were  well 
formed— rough,  but  erect  and  easy — and  having 
.  that  use  of  their  limbs,  boldly  flexible,  which  the 
*  life  of  the  hunter  and  the  horseman  is  very  apt 
*"*  to  impart  in  the  case  of  a  well  made  person. 
Where  had  these  lads  come  from  ?  From  a 
space  of  country  twenty  miles  round,  through 
which *the  very  whispers  of  a  fiddle  make  them 
selves  heard,  heaven  knows  how,  and  whose  at 
tractions  among  such  a  people  are  felt,  heaven 
only  knows  to  what  extent*  Some  of  them  were 
professional  hunters  ;  some,  idle  ramblers  like 
myself;  and  some  few  might  have  been  gathered 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood.  But,  as  I  could 
give  no  very  good  reason  for  my  own  presence 


IICLDN    IlALHKV,  13 

in  such  a  place,  it  would  be  unreasonable  to  ex 
pect  me  to  account  for  theirs. 

The  girls, — but  here  the  case  is  very  different. 
When  did  ever   damsel   find  herself  in  such  a 
situation  without  contriving  some  of  her  secret 
graces  before  the  toilet?     Though  she  mirrors 
her  beauties  in  the  stream,  she  will  yet  manage 
to  give  them  some  of  those  helps  of  art,  a  know 
ledge  of  which  she  seems  to  have  caught  by 
instinct.     There  were  some  twelve  or  fourteen 
damsels  in  the  room,  and  a  profusion  of  ribbons — 
and  of  these  a  country  girl  must  have  the  gaud 
iest.     Fancy,  gentle  reader,  the  picture  for  your 
self.     See  Mary  with  her  bandeau  of  Hibernian 
green — her  belt  of  golden-  yellow — her  necker 
chief  that  seems  to  have  been  dyed  in  summer 
rainbows,  and  her  dress  that  might  have  been 
made  out  of  their  skirts.     And  there  is  Susan  in 
her  head  dress,  and  Sally  in  her  blue  and  scarlet, 
and   Jenny   in   her  "  Jim-along-Josey,"  without 
ever  dreaming  that  her  style  of  body  garment 
would  ever  become  a  fashion  in  the  great  city, 
and  be  known  by  such  an  imposing  name.    I  am 
not  good  at  such  details,  and  you  must  conceive 
them  for  yourself.    It  is  very  certain,  however, 
that,  with  all  their  superior  pains-taking  at  the 
toilet,  the  women  lacked  the  graces — however 
inferior-r^which  distinguished  the  deportment  of 
the  men.    They  sat,  stiffly  and  awkwardly,  like 
BO  many  waxen  figures,  each  on  her  stool,  as  if 
troubled  with  a  disquieting  apprehension  that  any 


14  HELEN    UALSEY. 

Unwise  movement  would  overturn  the  fair  fabric 
of  her  present  state,  and  be  equally  fatal  to  head 
dress,  handkerchief  and  happiness.  There  was 
one  exception  to  this  uniform  display  of  ostenta 
tion  and  awkwardness, — of  whom  more  here 
after, 

But  tho  waxen  images  were  made  to  move. 
The  fiddle  begun  to  speak  in  tolerable  tune,  and 
tho  brawny  boys  sprang  across  tho  ocean  of 
floor  that  separated  them  from  the  green  beauties 
on  tho  sunny  banks,  and  appropriated  them,  I 
suppose,  according  to  previous  arrangement.  In 
tho  twinkling  of  an  eyo  they  were  upon  the 
ground,  every  mother's  non  of  them,  and  busy  in 
the  mazes  of  the  country  dance,  Such  a  shuflling 
of  feet,  such  a  tearing  of  music  to  very  tatters,  by 
that  crazy  violin,  and  the  inveterate  musician, 
who  scraped  awny  as  if  catgut  could  bring  about 
the  noblest  catastrophe, — would  require  the  crea 
tion  of  a  special  muse  to  describe,  and,  until  that 
event,  we  leave  the  affair  to  the  quick  conception 
and  conjecture  of  the  reader. 


HELEN    1IAL9EY.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

I  KNOW  not  why,  but  the  whole  proceeding, 
with  all  its  whirl  and  excitement,  its  odd  merri 
ment  and  grotesque  display  of  art,  produced  in 
me  a  feeling  of  disquiet,  approaching  even  to 
melancholy.  Perhaps,  this  was  because  it  re 
minded  me  of  Leaside,  and  the  fiddling  of  old 
Ben,  our  venerable  butler,  when  little  Mary 
Bonham  was  my  partner,  and  we  wandered 
down  together  in  the  same  sweet  primitive  move 
ments  that  now  seemed  to  be  desecrated  wan 
tonly  before  my  eyes.  The  whole  scene  of  home 
grew  up  before  me  as  I  gazed  and  mused.  The 
stately  hall,  hung  with  pictures,  nicely  curtained, 
with  the  massive  piano  on  one  side,  and  the 
equally  massive  book-case  on  the  other ;  the  one 
a  treasury  of  the  sweetest  sounds,  the  other  of 
the  noblest  sense.  My  father,  with  his  white 
hairs,  on  one  side  of  the  fireplace ;  my  mother,  with 
her  stiffly-starched  white  cap  on  the  other  ; — the 
one  with  his  huge  Shakspeare  on  the  little  table 
beside  him, — closed,  with  his  silver  spectacles 
peeping  out  between  the  leaves ; — the  other  with 
her  knitting  apparatus  in  her  lap,  the  work  drop- 
ping  to  her  feet,  as  she  watched  our  movements, 
while  the  kitten,  lying  on  its  back,  was  disentang 
ling  with  mischievous  painstaking  that  which  had 


16  HELEN    11ALSEY. 

tasked  the  Ingenuity  and  industry  of  the  good  old 
dame,  to  put  together,  for  the  last  half  dozen 
evenings.  That  passing  but  sweet  glimpse  of  the 
dear  old  homestead,  with  all  its  holy  associations, 
was  the  first  mental  image  which  crossed  my 
mind,  reproachful  of  my  wanderings.  You  may 
be  sure  I  did  not  encourage  it,  but,  anxious  to 
remove*  it,  I  hastened  round  the  dancers,  to  the 
opposite  side,  intending  to  make  my  escape  at 
the  doorway,, and  go  out  beneath  the  skies;  but 
I  was  interrupted  in  this  progress,  and  diverted 
from  this  purpose,  by  finding  the  narrow  way 
occupied.  I  looked  down  at  the  person  who 
thus  obstructed  my  pathway,  and  almost  recoiled 
in  pleasurable  surprise.  Before  me  sat  a  young 
girl  of  fifteen  or  thereabouts.  She  certainly 
could  not  have  been  more  than  sixteen.  The 
first  thing  that  struck  me  about  her  was  the  ex 
quisite  but  dewy  brightness  of  her  .eye,  which 
was  as  dark  of  hue  as  the  coal  may  be  supposed 
to  be  on  the  eve  of  that  moment,  when,  under 
.the  force  of  heat,  it  becomes  a  brilliant.  The 
face  was  small,  very  email,  when  you  turned 
suddenly  from  the  blaze  of  tjiie  large  expanding 
eye  to  note  the  accompanying  features ; — but  it 
was  also  very  beautiful.  The  skin  was  singularly 
clear  and  transparent  for  such  black  eyes  and 
hair.  The  forehead,  about  which  was  bound  a 
narrow  braid,  was  high  and  broad,  and  consti 
tuted  fully  one  half  of  the  face.  The  hair  was 
parted,  madonna  fashion,  as  if  art,  after  long  ex- 


HELEN    IIALSEV.  17 

perience,  had  become  assured  that,  in  the  present 
case,  her  best  policy  was  to  obey  the  laws  of 
simplicity.  Her  neck,  which  was  only  half  bared, 
seemed  very  white  and  beautifully  rounded.  Her 
figure,  which  was  evidently  slight,  could  not  be 
distinguished,  by  reason  of  the  huge  travelling 
cloak  in  which  she  was  still  wrapped.  The 
whole  appearance  of  this  young  creature,  so 
unique,  yet  so  little  like  the  rest  in  the  assembly, 
fixed  my  regard,  and  would  have  done  so  even 
had  the  excessive  brilliancy  of  her  eyes  and 
beauty  of  her  complexion  not  enchained  it.  Her 
seeming  isolation,  too,  so  much  like  my  own,  was 
another  circumstance  to  commend  her  to  my 
sympathies.  A  scene  like  the  present,  in  a  fron 
tier  country,  I  need  not  say  to  my  readers,  is  apt 
to  set  at  defiance  the  more  restraining  laws  of 
society  in  the  obviously  social  world  ;  and,  as 
suming  the  exercise  of  one  of  the  most  understood 
privileges  of  the  place,  I  did  not  hesitate  to  ac 
cost  the  stranger.  She  was  evidently  a  stranger 
like  myself,  and  I  jumped  at  once  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  she  was  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  trav 
elling  carriage  that  I  had  seen  at  the  door. 

"You  do  not  dance,"  I  said  to  her,  bending 
down  beside  her,  and  speaking  in  those  subdued 
tones  which  seem  the  properest  when  address 
ing  the  young,  the  timid  and  the  artless. 

She  looked  up,  then  around  her,  with  something 
of  the  expression  of  a  startled  fawn,  away  from 
its  dam,  and  trembling  at  the  approach  of  some 


18  11ELEN    HALBfiY. 

strange  monster  of  the  wilderness.    There  was 
an  air  of  anxiety  in  her  glance,  which  made  me 
more  cautious  in  my  approaches,  and  at  the  same 
time,  more  earnest  in  my  interest.     As  she  did 
not  answer,- 1  put  my  inquiry  in  another  shape. 
"  Will  you  not  dance  with  me  ?•" 
"  Oh,  no  1"  she  answered,  still  looking  anxious 
ly  around  her,  and  particularly  at  the  entrance, — • 
"  Oh,  no  I  I  do  not  wish  to  dance.    I  am   a 
stranger  here, — I  know  nobody." 

"  I  too  am  a  stranger  here,"  was  my  reply-— 
"let  us  therefore  know  one  another — let  us  be 
friends." 

She  allowed  her  eyes  to  rise  for  a  moment  to 
the  level  of  mine,  and  when  they  encountered  my 
glance,  a  deep  crimson  overspread  her  cheek. 

"Shall  we  not  be  friends?"  I  repeated,  as  1 
found  she  did  not  design  to  answer. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?"  she  answered ;  and  the 
question  struck  me  as  remarkable  for  its  simpli 
city.  It  seemed  to  indicate  a  higher  standard  of 
duty,  in  the  matter  of  friendship,  on  the  part  of 
this .  young  creature,  than  was  customary  among 
mankind  in  general.  I  contrived,  however,  to  re 
ply,  though  her  question  was  evidently  one  not 
easy  of  answer. 

"  What  should  a  friend  do,  but  love  his  friend, 
and  think  of  him,  and  pray  for  him,  and  be  glad 
to  see  him,  and  sorry  to  lose  him." 

"Ah !  but  I  shall  soon  be  gone.'* 

"Gone!  where?" 


HELEN    HALSEY. 


"  To  my  own  home  —  you  to  yours." 
44  And  why  should  we  go  different  ways  ?'* 
"1  don't  know,"  she  said,  in  slow,  subdued  tones, 
which  so  far  flattered  me,  as  they  seemed  to  bo 
regretful  ones. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  wre  should  not  go  to 
gether,  at  least  for  a  little  while.     For  my  part,  I 
have  set  out  to  travel,  and  it  does  not  matter 
much  whither  I  go.     Where  do  you  live  ?" 
44  Miles  off  —  very  far.     Close  by  the  river  —  " 
•4  River  —  what  river?" 

44  Far  —  far  !  You  cannot  go.  No,  no  !  You 
cannot  go  there/' 

I  observed,  as  she  replied,  that  her  glances 
sought  anxiously  the  entrance,  before  which  I 
now  discovered,  in  the  dim  light  of  evening,  that 
there  stood  a  group  of  persons,  three  or  four  in 
number. 

44  You  little  know  how  far  I  am  willing  to  go 
for  my  friend  —  for  those  whom  I  love  ;"  was  my 
reply,  and  my  hand  rested,  while  I  spoke,  uncon 
sciously  on  my  own  part,  on  hers.  I  felt  hers 
tremble  beneath  it.  —  withdrawn  —  and  only  then 
was  I  conscious  of  the  trespass,  which,  had  I 
been  in  a  highly  civilized  world,  had  been  com 
mitted  by  this  presumption.  I  proceeded  : 

44  If  one's  friend  is  true  and  worthy,  one  follows 
her  to  the  end  of  the  world,  follows  nobody  else, 
thinks  of  nobody  else,  cares  for  nobody  else,  loves 
her  over  all  the  world/' 


20  HELEN    I1ALSEY. 

"  Ah !  that  is  friendship ;"  she  answered  with 
a  sigh. 

M I  would  be  your  friend — I  will  follow  you  ;" 
I  continued  impetuously,  encouraged  by  her 
words. 

"  No !  no ! — I  have  no  friend.  I  live  very  far, 
—by  the  river — the  road  is  hard  to  find — bad 
swamps — you  cannot  follow  me." 

Her  answer  was  made  with  some  trepidation, 
and  an  increased  anxiety  of  expression,  as  her 
glance  was  directed  towards  the  door. 

"  And  why  should  it  be  hard  to  find,  and  why 
should  the  bad  roads  and  the  swamps  prevent  me, 
when  it  does  not  prevent  you  ?  Why  can't  I  fol 
low  you  ?  I  will  follow  you." 

"  No,  you  must  not ! — as  a  friend  you  must  not." 

This  was  spoken  with  singular  emphasis  ;  then 
she  paused  abruptly,  as  if  disquieted  at  the  degree 
of  empressement  which  she  had  given  to  her  utter 
ance.  But  she  had  also  given  peculiar  force  to 
the  word  "friend?  and  that  pleased  me.  It 
seemed  to  say  that  she  herself  was  not  displeased 
With  the  appropriation.  But  there  was  a  mys 
tery  in  the  whole  matter.  Her  strange  mode  of 
speech — so  artless,  yet  so  reserved — her  evident 
anxiety,  if  not  apprehension, — and  the  secrecy — 
could  it  spring  from  ignorance — which  she  re 
solutely  maintained  as  the  whereabouts  of  her 
abode  1  I  was  resolved  not  to  give  the  matter 
up.  But,  for  that  moment,  this  resolution  was 
made  in  vain,  We  were  interrupted,  and,  as  I 


HELEN    IIALXJEY.  21 

thought,  rather  rudely,  by  some  one  thrusting 
himself  in  between  us.  I  turned  to  meet  the  in 
truder,  in  a  mood  prompt  enough  to  punish  the 
intrusion,  and  was  confronted  by  the  stern  glance 
of  a  man  in  middle  life — perhaps  a  little  beyond 
it — such  seemed  the  testimony  afforded  by  thick 
masses  of  grisly  beard  which  stood  about  his 
cheeks  and  chin.  His  keen,  inquiring  glance, 
Jixed  upon  my  own  face,  rather  tended  to  in- 
crease  the  disposition  which  I  felt  to  resent  what 
1  esteemed  his  impertinence,  but  the  momentary 
reflection  that  he  might  be  the  father  of  the  dam 
sel,  moved  me  to  tolerate  a  bearing  which,  under 
any  other  circumstances,  would  have  moved  me 
to  do  brittle,  and  which,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
country,  would  not  only  have  justified,  but  called 
for  it.  While  I  was  meditating  what  to  say, — 
for  he  still  kept  his  glance  fixed  upon  me — the 
girl  rose  and  took  his  arm.  He  turned  from  me 
at  this  instant  and  led  her  off  to  an  adjoining 
apartment,  followed  by  Yannakcr,  the  host,  who 
seemed  to  be  busy  in  no  worse  office  than  that 
of  showing  the  parties  their  several  chambers. 

**  My  game  is  up  for  the  night !"  was  my  mut 
tered  reflection,  and,  so  thinking,  I  dashed  out  of 
the  hall,  and  with  hot  brow  and  excited  spirit, 
stood,  unknowing  where  to  turn,  beneath  the  cool 
and  mantling  startlight. 


HELEN    HALSEY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  sounds  of  that  crazy  violin,  which  I  now 
began  again  to  hear,  sounded  a  worse  discord  in 
my  ears  than  ever,  and  gave  an  impulse  to  my 
footsteps  which  they  seemed  to  need.  I  dashed 
forward,  following  what  seemed  the  opened 
grounds,  and  soon  found  myself  ascending  a  little 
range  of  hills.  The  night  was  very  clear  and 
very  beautiful,-— of  that  sombrous  sort  of  beauty 
when  the  light  just  suiUccs  to  enable  you  to  dis 
tinguish  objects,  but  helps*  at  the  same  time,  to 
magnify  their  aspects  by  its  own  vague  medium. 
The  trees  stood  up,— those  stately  pines  which 
maintain,  day  and  night,  one  unceasing  murmur, 
which  is  more  dear  than  song  to  the  imaginative 
spirit — in  frowning  and  vast  magnificence  beside 
me,  like  so  many  gigantic  wardens  of  the  land, 
marshalling  the  entrance  to  some  wondrous  pa 
lace*  Under  their  guidance,  as  it  were,  and 
through  their  ranks,  I  hurried  on,  musing  over  the 
thousand  fancies  which,  1  suppose,  would  be  na 
tural  enough  to  any  youth  under  the  same  cir 
cumstances — newly  enriched  by  a  sense  of  liberty 
• — a  feeling  of  manliness — which  the  very  privi 
lege  of  roving  at  that  hour,  and  in  new  scenes, 
would  be  apt  to  inspire  ; — and,  anon,  reproached 
by  the  stern  internal  monitor  within,  for  filial  dis- 


•  HKLCN    JIAI.8EY.  23 

obedience, — remembering,  with  sinking  heart,  the  ' 
tears  of  my  mother,  and  the  frowning  farewell  of 
my  father-  -all  of  which  was,  in  another  moment,  to 
be  banished  from  thought,  by  the  intrusive  image 
of  that  strange,  sweet  maiden,  sitting  by  herself, 
wrapped  up  in  her  heavy  cloak,  yet  looking  out 
with  such  bright,  diamond-like,  heart-conducting 
eyes.     I  might  have  wandered  thus  for  hours, 
perhaps  all  night,  for  what  youth  with  such  feel 
ings  in  his  heart,  and  such  ferment  in  his  brain,  ever 
cares  for  the  dull  sleep  of  ordinary  mortals, — had 
I  not  been  roused  to  other  thoughts  by  a  sudden 
and  startling   sound,  which  reached   me   from 
the  range  of  dark  hills   opposite,     I  could  only 
liken  this  sound,  with  which   I  was  unfamiliar, 
to  the  bay  or  howl  of  the  wolf,  or  perhaps,  a 
dozen  of  them ;  and  though  the  idea  of  a  wolf- 
hunt  struck  me  the  next  moment,  as  being  among 
the  most  famous  of  all  ideas,  it  was  some  qualifi 
cation,  just  then,  to  any  such  desire,  that  I  was 
horseless,  weaponless,  without  company,  and  to 
tally  ignorant  of  the  habits  of  the  animal,  and  the 
country  in  which  I  stood.    That  domestic  virtue, 
discretion,  interposing  at  this  juncture,  persuaded 
me  to  retrace  my  steps  to  Yannaker's,  which  I 
reached  in  reasonable  time,  after  once  measuring 
my  length  over  a  stump,  that  very  imprudently 
stood'  in  my  way  on  the  slope  of  a  little  hillock. 
The  violin  was  still  at  work,  and  though  I  felt 
apprehensive  that,  until  it  slept,  I  should  not,-4 
persuaded,  old  Ynnnaker  out  of  the  circle,  where 


24  HELEN    HALflEY. 

he  himself  shook  a  leg,  in  order  that  he  should 
show  me  the  way  to  my  chamber — a  measure  to 
which  I  was  induced,  by  being  convinced  that 
the  fair  stranger  would  not  again  emerge  from 
hers  that  night* 

I  slept  soon  and  soundly,  in  spite  of  my  con 
victions — slept  to  dream,  precisely  as  I  had 
mused,  of  home,  and  strange  woods  and  adven* 
tures,  with,  ever  and  anon,  that  fair  young  face, 
and  those  dark  lustrous  eyes,  peering  downward, 
us  if  from  hea'ven,  into  my  very  heart*  This  image 
so  completely  filled  my  brain,  that  it  was  the  first 
to  encounter  me  at  my  waking.  I  started  up 
with  a  bright  sun  blazing  through  a  half-opened 
window  upon  me.  There  was  a  stir  below,  arid, 
half  vexed  with  myself  for  having  slept  so  late,  I 
jumped  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the  open  window. 
As  I  feared,  the  travelling  carriage  had  disap 
peared,  and  in  it,  us  I  concluded,  my  fair  incog 
nita.  I  dressed  myself  with  all  despatch,  and 
hurried  below.  Preparations  for  breakfast  were 
in  progress,  though  the  room  still  retained  some 
of  the  traces  of  last  night's  exertions.  Part  of  an 
antique  frill  lay  in  one  place  at  my  feet,  and  at  a 
little  distance  I  detected  beneath  the  breakfast 
table  a  stripe  of  red  stuff,  most  like  red  flannel, 
in  conjecturing  the  uses  of  which  I  was  reminded 
of  the  apocryphal  story  of  the  Countess  of  Salis 
bury,  and  the  now  proverbial  sentence  of  the 
courteous  monarch, — *  Honi  soil  qui  malypense? 
The  worst  evil  that  I  was  thinking  of,  was  my 


HELEN    IIALSEY.  25 

mysterious  damsel,  and  the  timely  entrance  of 
Yannakcr  enabled  me  to  make  the  necessary  in 
quiries. 

"  Gone,  sir — gone  as  fast  as  a  pair  of  the  best 
horses  in  Massassipp  could  carry  her." 

"  How  long,  Mr.  Yannaker  ?" 

«'  Don't  mister  me,  stronger, — I'm  plain  Jeph 
Yannaker  to  travellers,  and  Yannaker  to  them 
that  knows  *ne,  I'm  agin  making  a  handle  for  a 
man's  name  before  you  can  trust  yourself  to  take 
hold  of  it." 

"  No  offence,  Jeph  Yannaker — I  only  speak  as 
I've  been  accustomed." 

"  No  offence,  to  be  sure, — it's  your  teoching, 
stranger,  but  here  in  our  parts,  where  people's 
scarce,  and  the  sight  of  one's  neighbor  does  the 
heart  good,  a  handle  to  his  name  seems  to  push 
him  too  far  out  of  the  reach  of  a  friendly  gripe. 
It's  a  stiff,  cold  sort  of  business,  this  mistering 
and  squiring — will  do  well  enough  among  mere 
gentlemen,  and  lawyers,  and  judges,  and  such  sort 
of  cattle, — but  out  here,  where  a  look  upon  the 
hills  and  swamps  seems  to  give  a  man  a  sort  of 
freedom,  it's  a  God's  blessing  that  we  have  few 
such  people  here.  Here  we're  nothing  but  men, 
just  as  God  made  us, — not  to  speak  of  a  little 
addition,  in  the  shape  of  jack  t  and  breeches,  made 
out  of  blue  or  yellow  homespun." 

Those  who  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  know 
Jeph  Yannaker  will  give  me  credit  for  having 
reported  him  correctly.    His  life  was  an  event- 
2 


26  HELEN    IIALSEY. 

ful  one,  and,  one  day,  shall  have  its  history, 
though  it  come  (  from  no  better  hand  than  my 
own.  But  to  return.  After  some  little  time 
taken  up  in  disclaimers  and  other  matters, — for  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  the  worthy  publican  was  wil 
fully  bent  on  avoiding  the  topic  to  which  I  sought 
to  confine  his  attention, — I  at  length  gathered 
from  him,  not  only  that  the  damsel  had  taken  her 
depai  ture,  but  that  she  had  been  gone  ever  since 
midnight — that  she  never  slept  in  the  house  at 
all,  but  had  only  retired,  with  her  uncle,  from  the 
crowd — that,  as  soon  as  the  moon  rose,  the  latter 
had  geared  his  horses,  and  just  when  I  was 
enjoying  the  sweetest  dreams  of  the  treasure  so 
newly  found,  she  was  spirited  away  by  her  grisly 
protector — whom  I  rejoiced  to  find  was  not  her 
father — but,  in  what  direction,  Yannaker  cither 
could  not  or  would  not  say.  I  immediately  de 
clared  my  purpose  to  pursue,  and  requested  that 
he  would  have  my  horse  brought  out.  He  looked 
at  me  with  open  mouth,  and  a  chuckling  "haw  ! 
haw  !  haw  !"• — that  promised  to  correspond  with 
the  boundless  dimensions  of  his  distended  throat. 
I  became  impatient,  and  with  some  peevishness 
demanded  the  occasion  of  sa  much  unreasonable 
and  unseasonable  merriment. 

"What!— go?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir, — go!  and  what  is   there  so  very 
laughable  in  such  a  determination  ?" 

He  composed  his  muscles  instantly. 
Not  before  breakfast, — oh  !  no  ! — I'm  sure  of 


HELEN    I1ALSEY.  27 

you  till  then.  Why,  breakfast  is  a  good  thing, 
the  best  of  things  on  an  empty  stomach — break 
fast  is  a  warm  thing,  the  warmest  of  things  for  a 
winter  day.  Why,  stranger,  no  man's  brains  do 
good  service,  unless  breakfast  has  warmed  his 
belly ;  and,  I  tell  you,  even  the  horse,  besides, 
knows  when  his  master  is  well  filled  and  sensible, 
and  when  he  is  not.  Let  a  good  horse  alone  for 
that.  Why,  lad,  the  best  horse  I  ever  knew  or 
crossed,  would  always  cut  capers  when  a  man 
undertook  to  straddle  him  who  happened  to  be 
hungry ;  no  horse  of  mine  should  ever  be  crossed, 
if  I  know'd  it,  by  a  man  who  hadn't  had  his  break 
fast." 

"  It  so  happens,  Mr.  Yannaker — " 
"Plain  Yannaker — plain  Yannaker,"  he  said 
interrupting  me. 

"  Well,  then,  plain  Yannaker " 

"Ha!  h^l  ha!  That's  it.  You're  right— I 
like  you  the  better  for  it.  Say  *  plain  Yannaker,' 
if  you  please,  in  preference  to  Mister  Yannaker." 
" 1  say,  then,  plain  Yannaker,  that  my  horse  is 
not  yours,  and  neither  knows  nor  cares  whether 
I  have  had  my  breakfast  or  not." 

"  Wouldn't  have  such  a  horse,  stranger,  as  a 
gift.  By  the  Lord  Harry,  I  wouldn't.  But  don't 
be  wolfish  at  Jeph  Yannaker.  Here's  your 
breakfast,  and  your  horse  shall  follow  it,  as  soon 
after  as  you  please— only,  let  me  tell  you  you're 
clean  mistaken.  Never  was  a  horse  yet  that 
didn't  know  whether  his  master  was  fed  or  not— 


28  HELEN    11ALSEY. 

unless  he  was  an  idiot  beast — a  clear  senseless 
animal, — and  I  reckon  there  may  be  idiot  beasts 
as  well  as  idiot  men.  There  now, — sit  down  to 
your  breakfast, — the  old  woman's  poured  out  the 
coffee,  and  all's  ready.  I'll  see  to  the  critter/' 

Jeph  Yannaker  had  a  way  of  his  own,  as  most 
who  knew  him  know,  which  there  was  no  resist 
ing.  Ho  had  the  most  good  humored  cast  of 
countenance,  the  most  benevolent  smile,  the  most 
kind  solicitude  of  manner, — yet,  if  tales  speak 
true,  he  could  cut  a  purse,  and  a  throat  too  upon 
occasion,  as  promptly  as  the  Pacha  of  Yannina. 
Of  this,  however,  in  another  history.  Enoug^ 
for  the  reader,  that  I,  a  boy  of  eighteen,  found  it 
impossible  to  be  angry  with  such  a  person,  and 
he  forty-five  or  fifty.  He  quieted  me  in  the  most 
persuasive  manner,  and,  seeing  me  safely  seated 
over  my  eggs  and  hominy,  in  equal  good  humor 
with  them  and  with  himself,  he  sallied  forth  to  put 
my  nag  in  readiness.  My  breakfast  was  soon 
discussed,  and  my  horse  at  the  door.  My  host, 
however,  did  not  seem  so  willing  to  part  with 
me.  I  had  dropped  the  usual  quid  into  his  hands, 
saying  good  humorcdly. 

"  There,  plain  Yannaker,  we  are  quits  for  this 
time.'* 

He  laughed. 

"  You  are  a  clever  chap,  and  I  somehow  like 
you.  We  takes  a  liking  for  a  human  every  now 
and  then,  jest  the  same  as  we  takes  for  a  fine 
horse,  or  a  speaking  hound ;  and  I've  got  a  notion 


HEI.KN    HALSEY.  29 

that  when  you  give  yourself  time  you're  a  raal 
good  fellow.  Aint  you  ? " 

"  There's  more  than  you  who  think  so,"  1 
answered  with  boy  sharpness. 

"  Oh  !  git  out,"  said  he,  "  nobody  beside  your 
self.  But  where  away,  lad  ?  You're  not  a  guine 
running  after  that  gal  you  seed  last  night?" 

"  I  am  though,"  I  answered  doggedly. 

"  No,  don't.  Take  an  old  fool's  counsel  for 
once,  and  save  your  horse's  wind.  In  the  first 
place  you  can't  find  her." 

"  I'll  try  for  it." 

"  And  in  the  next,  if  you  do,  it'll  be  much  worse 
than  shaking  hands  with  a  hungry  bear  that  aint 
willing  to  be  friendly  at  no  time." 

"  Indeed  !  But  what  know  you  of  her  ?  You 
told  me  you  knew  nothing." 

"  Well,  in  one  way,  that's  true  enough  ;  and 
when  you  gets  to  be  as  old  as  me,  you'll  find  out 
for  yourself,  that  a  gal  child  is  about  the  hardest 
critter  in  the  world  to  know  entirely.  But  I 
wasn't  speaking  of  any  danger  from  her,  by  no 
means, — but  of  them  that,  mout-be,  you'll  find 
along  with  her." 

"  Ha !  that  old  uncle  of  hers  ?" 

"  Prehaps, — and  a  rough  colt,  I  tell  you,  to  deal 
with,  take  him  at  any  turn.  Bud  Halsey  is  all 
bone  and  gristle,  I  tell  you,  from  tooth  to  toe- 
nail." 

"  Is  his  name  Bud  Halsey  T 

44  Yes,  when  he  comes  to  Yannaker's, — but  I 


30  HELEN  HAIBEY. 

can't  answer  for  it  any  where  else.  All  I  can 
say  is,*  that  your  course  lies  in  any  other  part  of 
the  world  than 1  where  he  is.  I  say  so,  lad,  for 
your  good, — for,  as  I  told  you,  I  somehow  likes 
you." 

"  But  what  is  he,  friend  Yannaker  t" 

"  He  !  He's  nothing,  as  the  world  goes, — but 
something,  I  tell  you,  when  he  works  his  grinders. 
Keep  clear  of  him,  that's  all.  It  don't  become  me 
to  be  talking  behind  the  back  of  a  man  that  pays 
his  way  in  good  money, — and  I  never  axes  such 
a  man  how  he  gets  his  money*  That's  no  busi 
ness  of  mine.  But,  to  begin  agin,  and  to  end,  lad, 
at  the  same  time — keep  clear  of  that  gal's  track ; — • 
it  can't  be  that  you've  got  so  deep  into  the  mire 
at  one  sight,  so  there's  no  reason  to  go  deeper. 
Go  home,  and  let  Bud  Halsey's  niece  marry  some 
body  else." 

Yannaker  was  evidently  no  sentimentalist.  His 
phraseology,  which  likened  love  to  a  bog,  and 
the  lady  to  a  wild  beast,  or  angry  cur  at  least, 
seemed  to  me  nothing  to  the  purpose,  and  strange 
ly  savage  and  unpoetical.  I  answered  him  in  a 
way  intended  to  be  conclusive,  as  I  flung  my  leg 
over  the  saddle, 

44  Thank  you,  friend  Yannaker, — you  no  doubt 
mean  me  kindly,  but  if  Bud  Halsey  were  twice 
the  monster  that  he  seems,  I'd  take  his  track." 

"  Well,  it's  cl'ar,  lad,  that  you've  been  pretty 
much  used  to  having  your  own  way,  and  such 
people  are  never  mado  wise,  but  by  a  little 


HELEN    IIALSEY,  81 

worry, — so  go  ahead,  as  quick  as  you  please, — 
only  keep  your  eyes  busy,  believe  nothing  that 
you  hear,  be  scared  at  nothing  that  you  see,  and 
be  ready  to  treat  a  man  with  two  legs  as  if  he 
was  an  animal  with  four : — for,  if  you  go  after 
Bud  Halsey,  there's  no  telling  whether  man  or 
beast  will  sprawl  first.  If  you  must  have  the 
ways  of  a  man,  be  sure  you  have  tho  heart  of 
one.  There's  no  telling  how  many  dangers  a 
stout  heart  will  carry  a  fellow  through." 

Something  piqued  with  the  tone  of  this  dis- 
course,  I  struck  spurs  into  my  steed,  and  sent  him 
through  the  gateway,  as  I  replied  : — 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  friend  Yannakcr — I 
have  no  fears,  so  do  you  have  none.  I  trust  your 
eggs  won't  give  out  before  I  return.  I  shall  bo 
back  by  Christmas  for  my  egg-nog." 

"  Go  ahead !"  was  all  of  his  response  which 
reached  my  ears, — but  I  could  hear  him  mutter 
something  more,  as,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hands,  he  watched  my  progress  along  the  road. 


32  HELEN    HALSEY. 


.CHAPTER  IV. 

MY  reader,  if  he  still  has  in  his  veins  any  of 
the  hot  blood  of  his  early  manhood,  will  easily 
understand  how  the  exhortations  and  warnings 
of  the  landlord,  so  significant  and  forcible  as  they 
were,  should  have  awakened  in  me  the  spirit  of 
curiosity,  and  prompted  into  activity  my  natural 
passion  for  adventure.  My  damsel  became,  in 
my  eyes,  the  heroine  of  romance,  to  be  rescued 
from  the  bearded  giant — to  be  won  with  feats  of 
arms,  and  the  most  reckless  audacity*  I  began, 
the  moment  I  was  fairly  out  of  sight  of  Yanna- 
ker's,  to  examine  the  neat  silver  mounted  pistols, 
— the  property  of  a  dear  departed  brother — 
which  had  long  been  my  favorite  possession,  and 
which  I  now  carried  in  the  pockets  of  my  over 
coat*  It  will  amuse,  rather  than  alarm,  the 
reader,  to  describe  these  mortal  weapons,  They 
were  of  the  smallest  calibre,  capable  tf  carrying 
only  a  buckshot,  and  useless  for  any  purpose  un 
less  with  their  muzzles  fixed  upon  the  very  bosom 
of  an  enemy.  But  I  had  little  experience  which 
could  test  their  value.  Like  other  boys,  I  had 
been  taught  by  a  tender  mother  that  lead  and 
powder  were  horridly  dangerous  things,  and  that 
pistols  were  pistols.  As  I  gazed  on  the  pretty 
playthings  which  I  carried,  and  saw  that  the 
priming  was  dry  and  grainy,  I  was  inspired  with 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  33 

* 

as  much  confidence  in  their  efficiency  as  ever 
had  that  famous  knight — I  forget  his  name — who 
wielded  Excalibar — in  that  spell-endowed  weap 
on,"  A  dirk-knife,  of  more  respectable  dimensions 
which  I  wore  in  my  bosom,  completed  my  equip 
ments  in  this  respect. 

I  need  not  say  that  I  pursued  my  way  almost 
at  random,  I  have  said  that  four  roads  diverged 
into  different  regions  of  country,  from  the  area 
in  which  the  house  of  Yannaker  stood.  I  had 
dashed  on  that  which  had  presented  to  the  casual 
eye  the  most  obvious  carriage  track,  and  with  all 
the  ardor  and  the  hope  of  youth,  I  followed  this 
route  till  sunset,  when  I  found  myself  in  front  of 
a  wigwam,  in  the  door  of  which  stood  a  haggard 
woman,  scarce  oblo  to  move,  bearing  in  her 
countenance  all  the  proofs  of  a  severe  visitation 
of  autumnal  fever.  From  her  I  learned  that  no 
carriage  had  passed  that  day,  and,  indeed,  beforo 
I  mado  tho  inquiry,  I  had  lost  all  fresh  traces 
along  the  road  of  tho  vehicle,  which  I  had  set 
out  to  follow.  Here  was  a  quandary.  To  re 
turn  then  was  out  of  the  question.  My  love  and 
romance  together  failed  to  inspire  me  with  any 
desire  for  riding  back  over  such  a  road,  and  on  a 
night  which  promised  to  be  equally  cold  and 
starless.  To  go  farther  was  idle,  considering 
my  objects,  and  I  gathered  from  the  woman  of 
the  house  that  her  dwelling  was  the  only  one  on 
that  road  within  fifteen  miles.  I  was  perforce 
compelled  to  remain  where  I  was,— a  necessity 
which,  when  I  saw  the  cheerlesgness  of  the  in- 
2* 


84  HELE*    HALdEV. 

tenor,  was  felt  to  be  even  heavier  than  the  pro 
tracted  journey,  ^ut  for  my  faithful  horse,  I  had 
taken  the  back  track,  and  seen  '  plain  Yannaker' 
by  the  next  day's  dawn. 

I  must  hurry  over  the  next  three  days.  They 
were  unmarked  by  any  event  of  importance. 
Nothing  had  occurred  having  any  bearing  on  my 
purpose,  nor  did  I  feel  or  find  myself,  up  to  this 
time,  one  step  nigher  to  the  fair  object  who  was 
still  the  warmest  and  most  vivid  presence  in  my 
imagination.  I  had,  meanwhile,  retraced  my 
course  to  Yannakcr's,  heard  more  of  his  warnings 
with  as  little  heed,  tried  another  of  the  roads 
diverging  from  his  house  with  as  little  profit,  and 
now,  in  a  third  d  rection,  was  laboring  at  the 
close  of  day  among  the  swamps  of  Choctaw- 
hatchie.  That  night,  the  brown  heath  and  dried 
leaves  formed  my  bed,  my  canopy  was  the  tree 
and  sky,  while  a  rousing  fire  at  my  feet,  and  in 
front  of  my  horse,  served  to  keep  at  a  distance 
any  beasts  of  prey  which  might  have  been  dis 
posed  to  disturb  us.  I  confess  I  slept  little.  I 
had  not  so  much  faith  in  the  effect  of  fire  upon 
wolf  and  tiger.  I  was  in  a  region  where  they 
still  were  found,  and  what  with  seeing  to  the 
comforts  of  my  horse,  gathering  brands,  and  try 
ing  to  keep  warm,  the  morsels  of  sleep  which  I 
caught  were  equally  small  and  unsatisfactory. 
It  was  more  refreshing  to  me  to  get  fresh  glimpses 
of  another  day.  • 

Once  more  afoot,  and  with  the  dawn.    My 


^  LIELEN    HALSliY.  35 

brave  steed  had  borne  the  privations  of  the  night 
better  than  myself.  At  least  he  wore  a  more 
cheerful  aspect  in  the  morning — and  this  encour 
aged  me,  I  dashed  forward  with  that  neck-or- 
nothing  philosophy  which  feels  itself  prepared  for 
whatever  may  turn  up,  though  with  a  lively  hope 
that  ijt  may  take  the  shape  of  breakfast.  No  man 
can  endure  long  the  want  of  hunger  as  well  as 
sleep.  One  or  other  he  may  stand  with  toler 
able  fortitude  for  thirty-six  hours,  chewing  the 
cud  of  his  reflection,  in  the  absencS  of  tenderer 
meats, — but  denial  of  both,  for  such  a  period,  will 
go  nigh  tq  unnerve  and  undo  the  bravest.  Just 
then,  however,  I  felt  very  sure  there  was  no 
standing  hunger  half  so  long  The  idea  of  a 
smoking  breakfast,  I  modestly  confess,  had  put  to 
slumber,  for  the  time,  certain  other  far  more  sub 
limated  ideas. 

I  had  not  to  ride  far — perhaps  some  eight 
miles — before  I  found  my  breakfast.  This  was 
at  an  Indian  cabin,  as  miserable  a  mud  hovel  as 
ever  engendered  vermin,  arid  reduced  humanity, 
a  willing  victim,  to  their  ravages.  My  host  was 
a  half-breed, — one  of  those  dark,  untamed,  surly 
savages,  such  as  the  Indian,  with  a  white  cross, 
almost  invariably  becomes.  He  placed  my  food 
before  me  as  if  it  was  poison.  His  looks,  indeed, 
seemed  to  defeat  its  alimentary  properties,  for  I 
ate  with  suspicion,  and  it  did  little  help  to  my 
digestion.  Fortunately,  my  horse  found  no  such 
fault  with  his  corn  and  fodder,  probably  because 


30  HELEN    HALSEY. 

he  looked  at  them  rather  than  the  hands  by  which 
they  were  furnished.  My  host  eyed  me  in 
silence,  took  my  money  with  the  air  of  one  who 
would  just  as  lief  take  ray  life,  and  watched  my 
departure  from  his  door  with  the  indifference  of 
one  who  is  assured  that  it  must  be  taken  wherever 
I  may  go.  My  reflections,  owing  to  sleeping  in 
the  woods,  starvation,  bad  food,  and  sulky  savages, 
had  become  far  less  audacious,  knight-errantlike, 
and  consolatory  than  usual.  There  was  but  one 
remedy  for  them,  and  that  lay  in  the  spur  at  my 
heels.  I  touched  up  the  sides  of  my  horse,  whom 
a  hearty  breakfast  had  rendered  somewhat  dull, 
and  on  we  went,  dashing  through  a  region  that 
not  only  grew  more  wild,  but  more  watery  at 
every  step*  The  conviction  that  a  river  was  at 
hand,  reminded  me  that  my  incognita  had  said 
that  she  lived  beside  one,  and  this  memory,  with 
the  increased  rapidity  of  my  motion,  served  to 
disperse,  in  some  degree,  my  disquieting  reflec 
tions. 

It  was  towards  midday,  when  I  was  suddenly 
startled  by  sounds,  like  those  of  a  horse,  at  some 
little  distance  before  me,  This  led  me  to  prick 
up  rny  senses  a  little,  and  feel  in  my  pockets  for 
my  pistol*, 

But,  just  then,  I  had  no  need  of  them.  A  mo 
ment  more  shewed,  and  dissipated,  the  occasion 
of  my  alarm.  Man  and  horse  .came  suddenly  in 
sight,  wheeling  out  from  a  little  Indian  trail,  a 
little  ahead,  and  on  the  right  hand  of  tho  path 


HELEN    IIALSEY.  37 

which  I  was  pursuing.     The  horse  was  a  miser 
able  hack,  driven  to  the  top  of  his  speed — which 
was  no  great  matter, — by  the  unrelaxing  applica 
tion  of  whip  and  spur.     The  rider  was  evidently 
engaged  in  a  race  for  life.     He  was  a  small  per 
son,  well  wrapped  up  in  clothes,  with  a  brand-new 
beaver  on  his  crown,  and  a  smart  whip  with  an 
ivory  handle  in  his  grasp.     His  boots  and  unmen 
tionables,  originally  of  city  make  and  good  cloth, 
had  been  in  close  acquaintance  with  the  tenacious 
yellow  mire,  which  was   abundant  enough   at 
every  turning.     His  face  was  sharp  and  his  eyes 
vigilant ;  at  an  ordinary  time,  and  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  it  is  probable  that  their  expression 
was  sufficiently  shrewd  and  sagacious,  but  just 
then,  it  was  pale  with  fear,  and  expressive  of  no 
other  quality.     The   man  was  evidently  half- 
scared  to  death.     I  drew  up  and  faced  him.     Ho 
would  have  dashed  aside  in  consternation,  regard 
ing  me  as  an  enemy ;  but  my  voice  arrested  and 
somewhat  quieted  him.     Besides,  huving  uncon 
sciously  planted  my  heavier  steed  directly  across 
the  track,  no  spurring  or  whipping  that  he  could 
use,  could  force  forward  the  feeble  animal  he 
rode.     Ho  was  accordingly,  breathless  and  look 
ing  back,  compelled  to  stop. 

To  -make  a  long  story  short,  he  had  been  robb 
ed,  most  civilly,  according  to  his  own  account, 
some  three  hours  before.  His  business  had  been 
to  collect  certain  monies,  in  which  object  he  had 
succeeded.  The  money — a  considerable  amount 


38  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

—had  been  promptly  paid  him  by  his  debtor,  from 
whom  he  had  taken 'leave  and  gone  upon  his  way 
rejoicing.  But  he  rejoiced  not  long.  An  hour  had 
not  elapsed,  ere  he  was  accosted  by  the  rogues, 
two  in  number,  and  they — women. 

44  Women  r  I  exclaimed  with  equal  astonish 
ment  and  mirth.  The  pitiful  fellow  shrunk  be 
neath  my  glance,  and  made  a  stammering  expla 
nation  which  half  excused  him.  According  to 
his  belief  they  were  women  only  in  costume. 
Like  the  worthy  Welshman,  in  the  case  of  Fal- 
staff — he  "  liked  not  when  a  'omans  has  a  great 
peard ;  he  spied  a  great  pcard  under  her  mufiler." 
One  of  the  rogues,  it  seems,  had  been  so  indifferent 
to  propriety  of  costume,  as  to  make  her  toilet  with 
out  shaving ;  and  a  grisly  beard  a  month  old,  had 
made  the  pistols  which  she  presented  to  the  breast 
of  the  collector,  doubly  potent  in  his  eyes.  The 
pistols  were  clearly  masculine.  Having  relieved 
him  of  his  pleasant  burden,  they  laid  a  hickory 
over  his  own  and  horse's  back, — a  mode  of  objur 
gation  which  horse  and  man  seemed  equally  pre 
pared  to  comprehend.  lie  heard  but  the  one 
comforting  assurance  that  they  gave  him  at  part 
ing,  that  if  he  only  dared  to  look  back  for  an  in 
stant,  like  Lot's  wife,  they'd  salt  him  forever.  He 
had  ridden  some  fifteen  miles  since  leaving  them, 
taking  care  to  incur  no  such  penalty.  His  far 
ther  information,  was  of  some  color  for  my  own 
prospects.  He  gave  it  ns  his  opinion,  that  the 
whole  region,  which  he  had  fancied  a  quasi 


HELEN    HALSEY.  39 

wilderness,  was  alive  with  rogues — -that  the  set 
tlement  was  quite  a  numerous  one — that  they  oc 
cupied  every  fastness  and  place  of  cover,  and  re 
treat — hammocks  and  islets — in  the  swamps  and 
river 

"  And  every  alley  green, 
Dingle,  or  bushy  dell,  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side." 

They  were  a  vast  community,  kept  together  by 
the  common  object  and  necessity,  roving  always 
in  concert,  and  sworn  against  all  laws  and  all 
honesty.  He  did  not  scruple  to  declare  his  con 
viction,  though  this  he  did  in  a  whisper,  and  with 
an  eye  cast  furtively  around  him,  that  even  his 
debtor,  who  had  paid  up  so  promptly,  was  of  the 
very  same  fraternity,  who  had  only  paid  so  readi 
ly  because  he  well  knew  that  his  associates, 
would  very  soon  put  him  again  in  possession  of 
the  same  money. 

"  And  who  was  your  debtor  1"  I  asked  with 
some  indifference,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  al 
most  heedless  of  the  answer. 

"  His  name's  Bush  Halsey." 

I  felt  my  cheeks  glow  again. 

**  Bush  Halsey?— are  you  sure  it  is  not  Bud 
Halsey?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  He's  got  a  brother  named  Bud  Hal- 
sey." 

**  And  where's  he?    Is  he  here  in  tne  swamps  V 

**  No,  I  guess  not.    I  heard  of  him  night  afore 


40  lir.i.r.N   HAl.Hf.Y, 

lost,  down  to'thcr  side  of  the  4  nation/  but  he's 
gone  below."  ' 

44  Gone  below  ?  where  ?" 

14 1  can't  guess." 

14  And  how  shall  I  find  this  Bush  llalscy  ?M 

Tho  poor  fellow  was  unwilling  or  unable  to  give 
me  directions,  His  fright  revived  when  he  re* 
collected  some  threats  that  were  thrown  out,  of 
future  treatment,  if  he  dared  to  reveal  anything  in 
relation  to,  tho  robbery,  and  my  anxiety  to  get  in 
telligence,  ami  my  determination  to  go  forward,— 
expensed  in  npito  of  IUH  counsel  to  tho  contrary— 
now  seemed,  ull  on  a  sudden,  to  impress  him  with 
the  belief  that  I  was  one  of  the  gang,  and  no  bet 
ter  than  I  should  bo,  An  attempt  which  1  made 
to  got  some  further  information  touching  tho  lltit- 
scys,  only  rendered  him  more  anxious  to  shake 
oil'  an  acquaintance?  who  might  think  proper,  at 
some  sudden  moment,  to  finish  those  feminine 
proceedings  which  had  been  begun  in  the  swamps ; 
and,  seeing  his  disquiet,  I  wheeled  my  horse  out 
of  his  path,  and  bidding  him  God  speed,  boldly 
turned  into,  (ho  dark,  narrow  avenue  out  of  which 
ho  itad  emerged* 


HELEN    HAL8ET.  41 


CHAPTER  V. 

I  WAS  certainly  about  to  pursue,  with  sufficient 
audacity,  a  career,  which,  with  sufficient  audacity, 
I  had  begun.  The  romance  of  the  thing  was  still 
uppermost  in  my  mind.  The  truth  is,  that  youth, 
unaccustomed  to  trials  of  its  own,  is  not  always 
persuaded  of  the  realncss  of  danger.  There  is 
always  a  hazy  indistinctness  about  the  wild  events 
of  which  it  reads  or  hears,  which,  touched  by  the 
worm  rays  of  an  unrestrained  imagination,  be 
comes  a  glory  in  its  sight,  and  effectually  hides 
from  view  the  cloud  and  storm  from  which  it  has 
arisen.  I  was  moving  forward  as  one  in  a  dream. 
Accustomed  to  a  life  of  security,  and  to  the  even 
progress  of  the  day,  unbroken  by  anything  un 
usual,  and  secure  from  any  evils  which  are  not 
common  every  where  to  life,  I  could  not  and  did 
•not  yield  my  belief  to  the  strange  stories  which  I 
heard.  That  they  were  commended  to  my  fancy, 
was  natural  enough,  as  they  came  clothed  with 
the  hues  of  the  picturesque  and  novel.  But  that 
they  were  real,  actual,  living  and  daily  ocurring 
things — that  here,  in  America — in  our  matter  of 
fact,  monotonous,  prosaic  day, — there  were  bona- 
fide  brigands,  such  as  we  read  of  in  italy, — was 
a  matter  not  so  easy  to  be  brought,  within  the 
compass  of  belief.  Thinking  from  my  feelings,  I 


42  HELEN    HALSCY. 

judged  the  affair  of  the  fellow  with  whom  I  had 
just  parted,  to  have  been  some  clever  practical 
joke  of  some  dare-devils,  exaggerated  by  his  un 
manly  terrors,  and  hereafter  to  be  explained  when 
the  trick  had  been  sufficiently  played.  Then  the 
robbery  had  been  committed  by  women,  Only 
think  of  my  being  bid  to  stand  by  my  own  little 
incognita !  The  fancy  made  me  laugh  outright, 
and  I  felt  very  certain  that,  in  such  an  event,  I 
should  take  to  her  arms,  with  the  full  purpose  of 
using  my'  own.  I  did  not  actually  wish  to  en 
counter  her  in  the  character  of  a  footpad,  but  I 
felt  that  such  an  event  would  not  be  entirely  with 
out  its  pleasant  accompaniments.  A  Wrestle 
with  her  did  not  seem  an  affair  to  inspire  terror ; 
and,  laughing  at  the  conceit,  I  dashed  forward, 
muttering  from  Dick,  the  apprentice,— 

•4  Limbs  do  your  office  and  support  me  well, 
Dear  me  to  her,  then  fail  mo  if  you  can." 

Filled  with  such  pleasant  musings,  I  had  ridden 
probably  three  quarters  of  nn  hour,  after  parting 
with  the  Collector,  and  in  this  time  I  had  over 
come  an  interval  of  four  miles — not  more,— for 
the  road,  originally  an  Indian  trail,  was  broken  by 
numerous  bottoms, — mucky  places,  of  which  the 
reader  will  form  a  sufficient  idea  from  the  dis 
tich  written  with  coal,  upon  the  blaze  of  a  tree, 
which  stood  fronting  a  place  of  similar  character, 
called  Cane  Tructa,  through  which  I  once  had  to 
pass : 


HELEN    1IAL8EY.  43 

"  Here's  h — 11,  aud  it 
To  go  through  yit." 

The  citizen  would  only  need  to  gaze  upon  such 
a  spot  and  acknowledge  the  same  necessity,  to 
feel  the  force  and  propriety  of  such  an  inscription. 
The  poet  was  worthy  of  the  subject,  and  that  is 
no  mean  praise.     I  had  gone  through  some  three 
or  four  of  these  miry  gulphs,  which  the  most 
reverent  nature  would  be  very  apt,  involuntarily, 
to   liken   to  the  infernal   regions,  Acheron   and 
Styx — though  none  of  them  was  so  bad  as  Cane- 
Tructa, — and  had  at  length  emerged  upon  a  high 
and  beautiful  knoll  of  green,  the  sloping  edges  of 
which  were  fringed  with  dense  barriers  of  cane, 
their  feathery  tops  waving  gently,  like  the  plumes 
of  so   many   gigantic   warriors, — and   was   ad* 
vancing,  in  an  easy  lope,  into  an  area,  about  two 
hundred  yards  round,   on   which  trees  seemed 
never  to  have  grown, — when  my  horse  suddenly 
stopped  short,  and  shyed  half  round,  while  his 
elevated  head  and  cars  attested  some  occasion  of 
alarm,     I  raised  my  eyes,  and  discovered — direct 
ly  on  the  path  in  front,  squat  upon  a  log,  the  butt 
end  of  which  was  thrust  out  from  the  opposite 
forest,— a  man  in  a  grey  overcoat,  with  slouched 
hat,  and  a  huge  rifle  which  lay  directly  across  his 
thighs.    The  suddenness  of  the  encounter  a  little 
staggered  me ;    but,  remembering  my   fanciful 
philosophies,  and  the  ludicrous  plight  of  the  Col 
lector,  I  soon  recovered  myself,  and  determined 
promptly  to  yield  myself  to  any  mirthfulness 


44  HELEN    IIAL8EY, 

which  the  mischievous  nature  of  men.  in  such 
situations,  might  be  Disposed  to  practice.    But  as 
soon  as  I  got  nigh  enough  to  notice  the  ex- 
yet  features  of  the  man  before  me,  I  arrived  at 
the  conclusion,  instinctively,  that  he  was  no  ama 
teur.     He  was  one  of  those  men,  whom  we  know 
at  a  glance,  as  persons  of  downright,  serious  busi 
ness,— who  never  laugh, — who  know  nothing  in 
life  but  its  necessities, — and  regard  all  things  and 
all   persons, '  with    that    hard-favoured   earnest 
ness,  which  looks  directly  and  only  to  the  most 
slavish  cnlls,  whether  of  a  hunger  that  needs,  or 
an  appetite  which  lusts.     He  neither  moved  limb 
nor  muscle  as  I  approached,  yet  I  could  see  that 
his  eyes  observed  me  keenly.     The  reader  will 
be  pleased  to  remember  that  I  am  of  the  sanguine 
temperament — a  temperament  which  acts  prompt 
ly,  without  much  reflection,  from  a  spontaneity, 
the  result,  it  would  seem,  of  a  corresponding  and 
equal  activity  of  mind  and  feeling*     The  truth  is, 
such  persons  think  with  as  much  rapidity  as  they 
move,  and  if  rightly  trained  to  habitually  just 
thinking,  their  impulsive  movements  are  very  apt 
to  be  quite  as  correct  in  their  tendencies  as  if  they 
were  made  under  the  most  deliberate  exercise  of 
thought  and  will.     This  is  said  to  account  for  my 
conduct  on  the  present  occasion.  It  did  not  appear 
,   to  me  that  I  thought  at  all  of  what  I  should  do. 
But  the  resolution  and  the  performance  were  one. 
As  I  approached  the  stranger  slowly,  I  threw  my 
left  leg  over,  so  as  to  sit  entirely  upon  the  right, 


HELEN    11ALSEY.  45 

thus  facing  him  fully  as  I  drew  nigh.  This  is  a 
favorite  mode  in  the  Southern  country  of  sitting 
a  horse,  when  the  rider  meets  with  a  friend,  or 
with  any  one  in  whom  he  has  confidence,  or 
with  whom  he  is  disposed  to  linger  and  converse. 
It  shows  that  there  is  no  trepidation  and  no 
desire  of  flight.  Sitting  thus,  I  approached 
the  fellow,  and  stopped  my  horse  directly  be 
fore  him.  He  looked  up  at  me  with  a  savage 
sort  of  inquiry  in  his  glance,  as  if  to  say  "  what 
next  ?"  I  did  not  suffer  him,  however,  to  put  the 
question  in  words,  but  proceeded  in  the  following 
manner : 

"I  have  but  one  question,  stranger,  before  I 
begin,  and  that  is,  *  am  I  safe  here  from  a  sheriff1?' 
Be  quick  and  tell  me,  for  I  must  ride  until  I  am." 

"  And  what  makes  you  afraid  of  a  sheriff?" 

"  You're  not  one,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Rather  guess  not." 

44  Very  well !  Now  then— do  you  ever  see  one 
here?" 

"  No !  They  take  root  here  but  never  grow. 
A  deputy  came  here  once,  from  somewhere  be 
low  ;  they  planted  him,  but  he  never  come  up." 

44  Good !  I  need  go  no  farther  then ;"  said  I, 
dropping  from  my  horse,  and  taking  a  seat  beside 
him  on  the  log. 

"Whar*  are  you  from?"  he  asked. 

44  Tennessee." 

44  What's  brought  you  here  ?" 
*  "This  I"  said  I,  jerking  my  horse's  bridle  as  I 


46  HELEN    HALBEY. 

spoke.  The  fellow  glowered  upon  me,  with  looks 
that  showed  he  was  no  joker,  as  he  responded  — 

"  You  mean  to  say  you  come  on  him  ?" 

**  Not  exactly,  though  I  did  come  on  him.  But 
the  horse  caused  my  coming  here.  I  made  a 
swap,  giving  that  nag,  which  you  see  is  a  fine 
one,  with  a  fellow  at  muster,  who  traded  me  a 
creature  that  had  spavin.  We  didn't  see  it  at 
first,  for  he  was  warmed  with  riding.  But  going 
off  from  muster  I  stopped  at  a  friend's  house, 
where  I  sat  an  hour.  Meanwhile  the  horse  had 
cooled  off,  and  was  as  stiff  in  her  joints  as  if 
they  were  made  of  ridge  poles.  I  had  got  on  a 
mile  farther,  hardly  able  to  get  along,  when  who 
should  come  by  but  Backus,  the  fellow  I  had 
swapped  with.  When  I  saw  my  own  fine  animal 
that  he  was  riding,  and  felt  that  I  could  hardly 
hobble  along  with  the  one  I  rode,  I  got  down 
and  stopped  him,  jerked  him  from  the  beast,  and 
we  got  to  blows,  Somehow  ho  got  a  knife  in 
him,  and  I  got  my  horse  back.  People  would 
have  it  'twas  my  knife  did  the  mischief,  and  there 
was  an  inquest,  and  a  warrant — and  all  that  sort 
of  thing, — and  so  I  sloped — but  look  you, — you're 
sure  you're  not  a  sheriff  or  a  deputy  ?" 

"And  if  I  was?'1 

I  grappled  him  by  the  throat  in  an  instant,  and 
drew  my  dirk,  which  flourished  in  his  eyes  before 
he  could  say  "  Jack  Robinson !" 

"Hold  off,  stranger!"  he  exclaimed,  grasping 
my  arm.  "  I'm  no  sheriff— and  no  deputy.  D — n 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  47 

the  breed, — I'm  just  as  much  afraid  of  'em  as 
you." 

"  Well  you  spoke  in  time  !"  I  said,  with  a  half 
subdued  fierceness  of  look — "  it's  no  time  to  play 
with  a  man  when  his  neck's  in  a  plough  line." 

It  required  no  small  effort,  I  assure  you,  to 
compose  my  muscles  and  carry  on  this  game 
without  laughter.  But  I  felt  that  it  was  now  ne 
cessary.  If  my  neck  was  not  absolutely  in  a 
halter,  it  was  very  clear  to  me  that  my  life  was 
not  in  a  state  of  absolute  security.  One  glance 
at  the  ruffian  at  my  side,  had  served  to  dissipate 
all  my  romantic  fancies. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THUS  far  I  had  carried  out  my  assumed  cnar- 
acter,  with  tolerable  success.  I  had  certainly 
lied  with  a  natural  grace  and  readiness  that  did 
not  need  a  prompter,  and  I  'had  the  satisfaction  to 
see  that  my  new  comrade,  in  his  own  mind,  took 
me  to  be  as  great  a  scoundrel  as  himself.  I 
somewhat  blushed  for  myself,  as  I  became  as 
sured  of  this,  but  blushing  then  was  no  part  of  my 
policy.  I  was  in  for  it,  and  had  to  go  through.  I 
remembered  the  counsel  of  old  Yannaker  at  part- 


48  HELEN    HALSEY* 

ing,  and  salved  the  hints  of  conscience  by  reflect 
ing  that  I  was  in  the  rogues  atmosphere.  Every 
step  I  took  with  my  companion  left  this  matter 
less  in  doubt.  Though  by  no  means  a  garrulous 
fellow, — really,  a  fellow  of  few  words,  he  con 
trived,  in  those  few  words,  to  give  me  insight  in 
to  many  and  very  strange  things.  Assuming  that 
the  circumstances  under  which  I  had  sought  re 
fuge  in  the  swamp,  and  my  own  inclination,  had 
already  m^adc  me  one  of  the  fraternity,  he  gave 
me  a  brief  but  comprehensive  history,  of  their 
doings  and  ways  of  life.  What  had  been  told  me 
by  the  Collector  was  fully  confirmed.  The  re 
gion  in  which  I  wandered,  was  possessed  by  a 
community  of  rogues.  They  were  numerous  and 
extensively  connected  throughout  the  country, 
some  of  them  had  absolute  wealth;  and  children, 
born  in  this  American  Alsatia — so  long  had  it 
been  a  realm  of  outlawry, — were  now  grown  to 
manhood.  What  a  history  was  here.  I  asked 
myself,  while  my  cheek  glowed  again, — -was  my 
beautiful  unknown,  one  of  these  ?  Had  she  drawn 
her  infant  breath  among  such  scenes,  such  rogues 
•—had  such  always  been  her  connections, — and 
in  what  degree  had  she  escaped  the  contamina 
ting  influence  of  such  an  atmosphere  of  crime. 
The  robbery  of  the  Collector,  by  persons  in  fe 
male  garments,  now  struck  me — as  it  did  not 
when  i  first  heard  of  it — with  a  sort  of  horror. 
I  could  feel  the  enormousncss  of  the  crime,  com 
mitted  by  women,  when  I  thought  of  her,  as  one, 


HELEN    11AL9EY.  49 

who  might  be  in  training  for  like  practice.  But 
when  I  thought  of  her  more  particularly — when 
I  remembered  that  night — her  shy  and  timid  air 
— her  subdued  and  gentle  accents, — and  the  ten 
derness  that  spoke  out  equally  in  eye  and  voice, 
— I  was  re-assured.  I  felt  happy  in  the  convic 
tion  that  no  sort  of  human  training,  could  pervert 
such  an  exquisite  work  of  heaven. 

Enough  of  this, — and  let  us  hurry  forward. 
We  were  on  our  way  together  into  the  recesses 
of  the  swamp.  This  was  an  admirable  recepta 
cle—a  retreat,  in  which  pursuit  of  one,  familiar 
with  the  region,  would  be  undertaken  by  a  thou 
sand  men  in. vain.  Pursuing  a  zigzag  and  con 
tinually  changing  course  for  several  miles,  I  yet 
conjectured  that  we  were  not  more  than  one 
mile  from  the  spot  where  we  started.  A  long 
dim  avenue,  led  us  as  through  some  lonely  cor 
ridor,  into  a  spacious  area,  a  chamber  almost  sur 
rounded  by  water,  opening  only  upon  one  defile, 
which  might  be  guarded  by  a  single  man.  Here 
and  there  were  nooks,  closets,  as  it  were,  of 
forest,  which  one  might  select  for  studio  or  dress 
ing  room,  and  be  secure  from  passing  interrup 
tion  ; — and  anon,  you  had  larger  fields  of  opera 
tion — halls  fit  for  courtly  audience — vast  parlors, 
of  green  wall  and  azure  ceiling..  But  the  reader 
must  conceive  for  himself,  what  the  rapidity  of 
such  a  narrative  as  this,  will  not  suffer  me  to 
describe.  Enough,  that  love  could  not  easily 
contrive  such  a  labyrinthine  bower,  for  the  safe- 
3 


50  jn;u:v  IIALBEY. 

ty  of  tho  beloved  ono,  with  oil  the  appliances  ot 
art  at  his  bidding,  and  all  tho  resources  of  impe 
rial  wealth  at  his  command.  Woodstock  was  a 
fool  to  tho  swamp  city  of  Conelachita ! 

By  little  and  little  I  made  new  discoveries. 
Hero  was  art  as  well  as  nature*  Sometimes 
little  tents  of  bush  would  appear,-— snug  cottages 
fur  a  niiifflo  Blooper,  Anon  cnmo  a  more  perma 
nent  if  not  a  more  pleasing  hovel,  made  of  logs 
and  claj%  Here  a  horse  would  be  seen  fastened 
•—his  saddle  and  bridle  hanging  to  the  tree  above 
him  \  how  a  face  would  peer  out  from  tho  copse 
beyond  us,  IIH  tho  trampling  of  our  steeds  would 
become  audible  I  uml  now  a  whittle,  or  tho  bark 
of  a  dog,  would  announce  our  approach,  to  dis- 
'tant  echos,  which  would  be  sure  always  to  be  on 
the  watch,  to  take  it  up,  and  repeat  the  signal  to 
others  yet  beyond.  All  this  was  so  much  ro 
mance,  which  made  me  half  forgetful  of  the  risks 

I  incurred,  and  of  tho  policy  1  wan  to  purnue»  in 
order  to  escape  them. 

At  length,  my  conductor    came  to  tt  halt. 

II  Here,"  said  he,  "let  us  hitch — wo  must  take 
boat  here*"     I  stopped,  got  down,  and  followed 
his  example.     Wo  fastened  our  homes  to  swing* 
ing  llinbn,  and  net  forward.     I  discovered  that  wo 
were  on  a  sort  of  islet,  on  the  edge  of  a  river — a 
dark,  deep,  but  narrow  stream,  which  whirled  by 
us  with  the  rapidity  of  a  four  knot  current,  car 
rying  along  with  it  reeds   and   branches,   and 
sticks,  tho  tribute  of  numerous  shores,  on   tho 


HELEN    IIALSEY.  51 

several  creeks  above,  A  neat  little  dug-out,  capa 
ble  of  carrying  two  persons  only  was  fastened  at 
the  landing.  •'  You  can  paddle  your  hand  I  sup 
pose?"  said  my  conductor.  Could  I  not?  I 
could  have  paddled  both  hands.  It  was  one  of 
my  favorite  exercises  from  my  earliest  youth,  on 
my  own  noble  river,  the  Alabama.  I  answered 
him  by  taking  my  seat  in  the.  little  bark,  that 
danced  like  an  egg-shell  upon  the  whirling  cur 
rent,  "  She's  a  clean  critter,"  said  my  compan 
ion  with  evident  satisfaction.  His  praise  was 
deserved.  A  better  balanced  canoe,  of  better 
proportions  for  such  a  stream,  I  had  never  beheld. 
It  was  a  pleasure  to  send  her  forward,  and  we 
found  no  difficulty  in  crossing  the  river;— but, 
having  made  the  opposite  shore,  wo  followed  it 
up,  until  we  passed  into  the  mouth  of  a  creek,  a 
broad  but  sluggish  stream.  This  we  ascended 
for  half  a  mile  or  more,  when  we  drew  up  to  some 
tolerably  steep  banks,  jumped  ashore,  and  hauled 
the  canoe  into  a  crevasse,  which  might  have  been 
the  work  of  hands.  We  had  not  gone  far  when 
we  heard  a  voice.  The  person  did  not  appear, 
and  the  language  used  was  a  sort  of  gibberish 
beyond  my  comprehension.  It  seemed  to  be  un 
derstood,  however,  by  my  companion,  who  turn 
ed  aside  at  once,  and  entered  upon  another  path. 
Here  wo  met  another  person  who  regarded  me 
attentively,  but  went  forward  without  a  word. 
The  next  moment  we  encountered  two  women, 
possibly  the  very  feminine  rogues  who  had  robb 
ed  the  Collector,  but  if  they  were,  they  had  taken 


52  HELEN    IIALSEY. 

cnre  to  shavo  thonm'lveii  ninco  they  ihavod  him, 
—for  their  china,— and  I  examined  them  heed- 
fully  as  they  past — were  quite  as  clean  as  his 
pockets.  They  did  not  pass  in  silence,  however, 
but  had  a  few  words  of  common-place,  and  a  nod 
and  a  smile  to  me.  They  were  young  too,  the 
jades,  but  quite  ugly  enough  to  have  frightened 
the  Collector,  without  rendering  necessary  the 
show  of  pistols.  A  whistle,  once,  twice,  thrice, 
repeated,  at  stated  periods  and  places,  now  notified 
our  approach  to  higher  personages,  and  emerg 
ing  from  the  avenue  into  an  area,  we  came  upon 
a  group  of  live  men,  who  seemed  to  be  busy 
about  a'canoe  of  considerable  dimensions,  which 
was  yet  in  the  log,  though  the  burning  and  hewing 
had  been  begun.  One  of  them,  who  was  stooping 
over  the  log,  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  describing 
the  outlines.  Ho  rose  from  his  stooping  posture 
as  wo  approached,  and  discovered  to  mo  a  person 
not  only  of  large  frame,  but  of  imposing  presence. 
He  was  over  six  feet  in  height,  broad  breasted, 
sinewy  and  muscular,  with  limbs  of  admirable 
symmetry,  which  his  costume,  which  was  all  of 
buckskin,  made  Indian  fashion,  showed  off  to  great 
advantage.  His  coat  was  a  hunting  shirt  thickly 
fringed  ;  no  longer  fresh  in  its  original  bright  yel 
low,  but  subdued  by  exposure  to  the  weather,  to 
an  uniform  umberous  aspect.  There  was  no 
covering  on  his  head,  the  hair  of  which,  though 
thick  and  long,  was  white  as  cotton.  His  beard, 
which  spread  over  his  bosom  in  thick  curling 
folds  and  masses,  was  such  that,  if  I  had  not  felt 


HK1.KN     I1ALSEY.  53 

sure  that  he  was  only  a  great  rogue,  would  have 
led  me  to  suppose  that  he  was  a  great  patriarch, 
His  eyes  were  large,  deeply  set,  and  of  a  clear 
dark   blue.     His   nose  was  Roman,  his   mouth 
small  and  expressive,  and  the  whole  expression 
of  his  face  that  of  benignity,  and  a  conscience 
quite  nt  rest  with  his  fellows  and  the  world.     I 
may  add  that,  as  he  wore  neither  stock  nor  neck 
cloth,  there  was  scarcely  anything  in  his  costume 
or  appearance,  to  remind  mo  of  civilized  life,  and 
yet,  even  with  his  habit  borrowed  from  the  In 
dian,  there    was  quite  as  little  of  the   savage. 
The  picturesque  in  his  guise,  and  its  noble  sim 
plicity,  according  so  happily  with  his  features  and 
his  frame,  effectually  relieved  his  appearance  of 
that  which  might  otherwise,  in  my  sight,  have 
seemed  strange  and  unnatural.     He  extended  his 
hand  at  my  approach,  a  slight  change  of  expres 
sion  from  interest  to  civility,  being  apparent  in  his 
countenance,  then,  after  giving  some  directions  to 
the  workmen,  he  drew  aside  with  my  late  com 
panion.     A  few  moments  only  had  elapsed  when 
he  returned,  having,  as  it  would  seem,  in  that 
time,  gathered  from  the  latter  all  the  knowledge 
which  he  had  respecting  me.     He  again  gave  me 
his  hand,  and  drew  me  aside  from  the  rest. 

"  You  have  been  unfortunate,  young  man/' 
said  he. — "  and  I  am  sorry  for  you.  There  can 
be  no  greater  misfortune  than  taking  life,  particu 
larly  at  your  age.  But  Fry  tells  me  you  had 
provocation.  Pray,  how  was  it  ?" 

I  had  to  begin  anew  tho  work  of  invention. 


M  HELEN   UALSEY. 

Of  course,  my  jtory,  in  substantial  particular*, 
must  be  the  same  as  I  had  told  before.  But 
there  was  a  difference,  which  I  soon  discovered, 
between  my  present  and  former  companion,— 
while,  to  the  latter,  I  appeared  reckless ;  to  the 
former,  as  a  man  evidently  belter  acquainted 
with  human  nature,  I  adopted  another  tone.  He 
had  himself  indicated  my  cue,  when  he  spoke  of 
the  provocation  Which  I  had  received.  He  knew 
enough  of  the  superior  nature  and  education— 
which  I  felt  that  I  could  not,  and  did  not'wish  to, 
conceal — to  be  aware  that  no  such  crime  is  ever 
committed  by  such  in  wantonness,  or  from  tho 
mere  brutal  instinct  of  passion.  There  must  be 
provocation  and  hot  blood,  in  the  case  of  tho 
educated  man — with  very  few  exceptions — be 
fore  he  will  do  murder*  I  framed  my  story  ac 
cordingly.  He  heard  me  patiently,  and  I  was 
particularly  careful  to  say  no  more  than  was 
necessary.  This  is  the  great  secret  in  lying  suc 
cessfully.  When  I  had  done,  he  took  me  kindly 
by  the  hand. 

"  Here  you  are  safe,**  said  he,  M  as  long  as  you 
choose  to  remain.  You  know  what  we  are,  and 
must  abide  by  our  law?.  We  ask  you  for  no 
participation  in  our  practices,  unless  your  own 
will  inclines  you  that  way, — which  I  would  not 
encourage.  This%  affair  may  blow  over — your 
friends  may  succeed  in  hushing  it  up,  and  then 
you  may  return  in  safety  to  your  family.  Nay, 
even  we  may  do  something  towards  this  result, 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  55 

however  strange  you  may  think  ii.  Outlaws 
ourselves,  we  have  friends  not  only  amouj  those 
who  obey,  but  ihosc  who  administer  the  u  ws. 
What  is  your  name,  and  from  what  part  of 
Tennessee  do  you  come  ?  Let  me  know  these 
particulars,  that  we  may  institute  an  inquiry,  and 
see  what  can  be  done  for  you  at  home.'* 

Here  was  a  dilemma.  But  there  was  no  time 
for  delay.  It  was  necessary  to  answer  promptly, 
I  gave  my  name  as  Henry  Colman,  of  Franklin 
County,  West  Tennessee.  It  was  fortunate  for 
me  that  I  knew  something,  personally,  of  this 
region,  for  it  appeared  so  did  my  examiner,  and  ho 
subjected  me  to  a  keen  scrutiny,  in  which  I  did  not 
dare  to  falter.  My  answers  seemed  satisfactory, 
He  pressed  my  hand,  and  bade  me  go  along  with 
him,  and  we  rejoined  the  persons  we  had  left. 

To  these  I  was  not  introduced,  and  he  only  re 
mained  with  them  long  enough  to  give  some 
directions  on  ordinary  subjects.  This  done,  he 
bade  me  go  with  him,  and  we  pursued  our  way 
together  through  a  long  wood,  occasionally  cross 
ing  branch  and  creek,  upon  a  rude  log  or  fallen 
tice.  My  companion  was  free  of  speech,  and  his 
conversational  resources,  I  soon  found,  were 
equally  admirable  and  ample.  He  was  deeply 
versed  in  books — he  had  seen  the  world,  and  was 
not  insensible  to  its  refinements.  His  eye  was 
evidently  one  accustomed  to  seek  out  and  dis- 
•  criminate  the  forms  of  beauty  in  external  objects, 
and  he  frequently  drew  the  regards  of  mine  to 


5<J  flCLLN    IlALftBY. 

tliis  or  that  point  of  view  in  the  surrounding  land 
scape,  which  was  'either  picturesque  or  fine.    All 
this,  while  it  increased  my  respect  for  him,  less 
ened  the  impressions  which  I  had  received  of  his 
objects  and  associates.     I  found  it  more  and 
more  difficult,  at  every  moment,  to  believe  in  his 
outlawry.    It  was  all  some  pleasant  jest — some 
queer  contrivance  of  clever  people,  to  produce  a 
laugh  at  the  expense  of  the  credulous ; — and  with 
this  notioi),  I  was  more  than  once  provoked  to 
blurt  out  the  truth  in  my  own  case,  and  my  con 
victions  in  theirs,  in  order  to  show  that  I  was  a 
little  too  sagacious  to  be  fooled  further  than  I 
thought  proper.     But  u  lurking  grain  of  prudence, 
at  the  bottom  of  my  brains,  prevented  me  from 
so  precipitate  a  proceeding,     Besides,  had  I  not 
an  object — was  not  this  Mr.  Bush  llalsey,  and 
was  not  Mr.  Bush  the  brother  of  Mr.  Bud  Halsey, 
and  did  not  Mr.  Bud  Halsey  have  in  charge  my 
beauty   of   the    cloud — my   fair  unknown— -the 
dark-eyed,  mysterious  damsel  of  whom  I  was  in 
search  ?     But  where  was  she    and  that  grisly 
personage?     Except  in  size,  there  was  no  re 
semblance  between  the   supposed   brothers.     I 
confess  that  when  I  recollected  the  rude  staro 
and  deportment  of  the  latter,  I  was  in  no  great 
anxiety  to  meet  with  him — but  my  desire  to  seo 
her  rendered  me  comparatively  indifferent  even 
on  this  head.     I  was  soon  to  be  relieved  on  some 
of  my  doubts.     We  had  now  got  into  a  region 
of  upland  swamp,  which  bore  some  of  the  marks 


HELEN    HALSEY.  57 

of  a  more  civilized  settlement.  A  corn-field 
opened  upon  right  and  left,  and  cattle  were  low 
ing  down  the  lane,  wigwams  appeared  in  sight, 
and  a  troop  of  barn-fowls  were  strutting  to  and 
fro  in  all  the  consciousness  of  corn  and  company. 
Beyond,  might  be  seen  a  tolerable  log-cabin,  from 
which  the  cheerful  smoke  was  arising,  in  a  long 
spiral  column,  through  the  patriarchal  branches 
of  a  clump  of  oaks. 

"  Here,  sir,  is  our  wigwam.  A  little  rough, 
but  not  without  its  comforts.  If  we  have  not  the 
laws  among  us,  we  are  not  without  those  things 
which  the  laws  were  intended  to  secure.  Here, 
too,  you  will  find  a  few  books,  and  if  you  are  a 
musician,  there  is  flute  and  violin.  I  keep  them, 
still,  rather  as  proofs  of  what  I  have  been,  than 
what  I  am  now — though  the  enjoyment  of  music 
is  not  absolutely  inconsistent  with  the  most  deso 
late  of  human  conditions." 

I  had  observed,  prior  to  this,  that,  on  mor  ethan 
one  occasion,  the  remarks  of  the  senior  had  run 
into  a  melancholy  tone  ;  and  I  now  discovered  that 
there  was  a  subdued  expression  in  his  countenance 
that  looked  like  a  settled  sorrow.  There  was  no 
unmanly  whining,  however,  in  what  he  said ;  but 
the  incidental  and  unforced  utterance  of  an  habit 
ual  feeling,  which,  at  such  moments,  was  an  ap 
propriate  echo  to  the  thought  which  he  had  occa 
sion  to  express.  We  entered  the  house  together. 
It  was  the  ordinary  log  hovel  of  the  country.  The 
room  or  Hall  upon  which  we  entered  was  a  small, 
3* 


58  HELEN    HALSEV. 

snug  apartment,  fourteen  by  sixteen.  Its  chinks 
were  all  neatly  i  covered  with  clapboards.  Its 
tables  were  of  common  pine,— its  chairs  of  domes 
tic  fabric  also,  seated  with  skins.  Several  tier  of 
rude  shelves  on  one  aide  of  the  apartment  contain 
ed  the  books  of  which  he  had  spoken,  which  were 
certainly  numerous  for  such  a  region.  There, 
too,  were  flute  and  violin.  The  window — tlierc 
was  but  one  in  the  apartment, — was  glazed  and 
hung  with  calico,  and  my  eye  was  fixed  upon  a 
slender  rocking  chair,  which  was  cushioned  with 
calico,  and  stood  very  near  the  fire-place  Such 
a  chair  could  not  have  supported  the  huge  frame 
of  my  host  for  ten  minutes.  By  whom  could  it 
be  occupied  ?  I  looked  round  and  listened  in 
vain.  The  dwelling  had  evidently  no  tenants  but 
ourselves.  Here  was  a  disappointment.  But, 
the  rocking  chair  was  a  promise  in  which  I  put 
some  faith,  and  there  were  other  proofs  of  a  fe* 
male  presence  around  us.  There  was  a  bandbox* 
speaking  volumes  of  itself;  and  on  one  of  the 
tables  I  discovered  a  little  open  basket  full  of 
squares  of  calico  for  quilting,  and  there  was  an 
unfinished  stocking,  with  the  bright  needles  stick 
ing  in  it,  peering  out  from  a  corner  of  the  afore 
said  basket, — and  these  were  all  signs  of  a  femi* 
nine  presence,  which  would  not  allow  me  to  dej- 
pair.  But  let  us  hurry  through  the  day.  Mr. 
Bush  Halsey,  for  I  soon  discovered"  that  it  was 
he,  indeed,  treated  me  with  the  most  marked  at 
tention.  He  played  the  country  gentleman  to 


HELEN    HALSEY.  59 

perfection.  A  servant  -came  at  his  summons,  a 
neatly  clad  old  African  darne,  who  proceeded  to 
set  the  table,  and  get  us  refreshments.  At  times, 
Mr.  Halsey  disappeared,  leaving  me  to  myself. 
And  when  he  came  in,  it  was  always  to  renew 
some  interesting  conversation,  and  display  his 
own  proficiency  in  all  its  topics.  I  began  to  be 
very  much  pleased  with  the  man,  and,  but  for  a 
natural  anxiety  which  I  felt,  as  to  my  situation 
and  the  result,  which  gave  a  little  dullness  and  re 
straint  to  my  manner, — I  should  have  shown  my 
self  quite  as  happy  and  as  much  at  home,  as  I  had 
ever  done  at  .Leasidc,  That  I  was  dull,  Mr. 
Halsey  ascribed  to  my  feelings  on  the  subject  of 
the  crime  I  had  reported  myself  to  have  com 
mitted  ;  and  though  ho  did  net  discourage  such 
feelings,  he  addressed  himself  more  than  once  to 
the  task  of  strengthening  mo  under  them.  His 
kindness  was  such  that,  even  on  his  account,  I 
half  repented  of  the  game  I  was  playing.  But  I 
had  not  the  courage  to  stop  where  I  was.  Indeed, 
there  was  no  stopping.  The  cards,  so  far,  were 
in  my  hands — but  whether  the  prize  deserved  or 
justified  the  venture,  is  a  question  to  be  solved 
hereafter.  Day  passed,  the  night  waned,  and  my 
host  showed  me  my  apartment.  For  an  hour  af 
ter  I  had  retired,  I  heard  him  playing  upon  the 
flute,  and  in  such  mournful  caprices  of  sound  as  I 
never  could  have  conceived  before.  It  seemed 
to  me  that,  if  a  heart  could  ever  speak  in  music, 
such  would  have  been  the  strains  poured  forth  by 


60  HELfiX    IIALHKY, 

a  breaking  one.  This  ceased,  and  I  must  have 
slept  a  little.  I  was  certainly  in  a  doze,  when  I 
was  startled  by  an  unusual  noise.  A  door  was 
grating,  there  was  a  bustle,  the  tread  of  several 
feet,  then  boxes  or  trunks  were  hauled  over  the 
floor,  and  there  was  a  murmur  of  tongues, — sub 
dued,  as  if  to  avoid  unnecessary  disturbance.  This 
was  followed  by  the  opening  of  another  door,  and 
the  voice  of  Mr.  Halsey.  "  Ah !  Helen.  Is  that 
you."  Scarcely  had  he  spoken,  when  other  ac* 
cents  succeeded,  which  thrilled  through  my  very 
soul. 

"  Yes,  dear  father.     May  I  come  in?" 

"  To  be  sure  1 "  was  the  reply. 

I  could  fancy  the  kiss  and  the  embrace  which 
followed.  I  could  have  sworn  to  that  voice  among 
a  thousand.  The  bustle  ceased,  the  sounds  died 
away.  'There  was  no  further  stir  that  night.  But 
my  sloop  was  gono.  Thought  was  too  busy  in 
my  head  for  sloop ;  and  with  tho  first  poop  of 
dawn  I  was  out  of  bod  ;  hut  not  Noonor  than  my 
host.  I  saw  him  from  my  window,  moving  off 
towards  the  swamp,  accompanied  by  tho  grisly 
guardian  of  my  fair  one.  The  tripping  of  light 
feet  in  tho  adjoining  hall,  drew  my  attention  thither. 
Hurrying  my  toilut,  I  cmtwod  tho  npitrtmcnt,  and 
as  I  expected,  discovered  tho  object  of  my  search* 
She  sat  in  that  very  rocking-chair  which  had  so 
much  interested  me  the  night  before.  Her  back 
was  to  me,  and  she  only  half  looked  around  as  I 
opened  the  door.  When  she  saw  me  she  started 


HELEN'    IIALSEY*  •  61 

to  her  feet  with  an  exclamation  of  equal  appre 
hension  and  surprise. 

44  Ah  !  you  here  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh  1 
wherefore  have  you  come  ?" 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  could  find  you  cut- 
that  I  would  follow  r 

."  Oh !  why  have  you  done  so  V  She  spoke  in 
manifest  alarm,  clasping  her  hands  imploringly 
as  she  did  so. 

"  And  why  not  ?" 

44  There  is  so  much  danger." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  danger." 

"  But  why  risk  it  ?" 

44  Because  I  love  you." 

'*  You  love  me  ?— oh,  no !  you  must  not.  I  am 
not  for  you  to  love.  I  am  a  poor  girl  of  the 
woods.  Go, — leave  me  soon.  There  is  danger 
if  you  stay.  You  know  not— you  cannot  guess 
the  danger." 

44  No !    There  is  no  danger  where  you  are." 

"I! — I,  myself,  am  danger,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  pretty  energy.  "  The  people  will  not  love 
you  here — go  home  to  your  own.  Fly — leave 
us.  You  cannot  go  too  soon." 

44  Your  people  shall  be  my  people." 

44  It  cannot  be.  You  have  your  own  father, 
your  own  mother."  * 

44  They  shall  be  yours." 

**  No  1  no !  my  father  is  here  1" 

44  He  shall  be  mine  P 

44  Alas  I  you  know  not  what  you  say.    You 


02  HELEN    IJ.UBKY. 

know  not  me—  you  know  not  him,  If  you  knew  t 
If  you  only  knrw  r  and  she  clasped  her  hands 
despairingly  while  she  spoke. 

•*  Nothing  could  make  me  love  you  less.  I 
know  you  —  thnt  you  are  beautiful  arid  very  dear 
to  me," 

"Say  not  so!  Leave  me.  Go  your  ways 
while  there  is  yet  time.  Alas  !  I  know  not  if  it 
is  not  too  late  already.** 

"  It  is  too  late  !  I  know  where  I  am  —  among 
whom  I  am,  Helen—  I  know  all  !" 

"  Alas  !  ulas  I"  —  She  covered  her  face  with  her 


•'  But  I  would  sooner  bo  here  with  you,  loving 
you  as  I  do,  than  among  the  civillest  people  in 
the  world,  Only  sutler  me  to  love  you  —  say 
that  you  do  not  hato  me—  that,  were  it  with  your 
self,  you  would  not  have  mo  leave  you." 

44  Why  ultoulcl  yuu  think  1  could  hate  you?'* 

14  1  do  not  think  so. 

"  Do  not  —  do  not." 

"  Ah,  Helen—  -could  you  grant  me  more.  Could 
you  but  say  that  you  would  receive  —  return  my 
love." 

44  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  love." 

44  Let  me  teach  you." 

**  No  !  no  !  you  must  go,  I  am  a  child  —  I 
must  not  listen  and  hear  you  talk  such  things. 
You  do  not,  cannot  know  the  truth  —  all  the  truth 
Hear  you,  stranger  -  " 


IIEl.K.N    I!ALSEY»  63 

"Call  me  not  stranger — call  me  friend — call 
me  I^enry  Colman." 

"  Henry — is  that  your  name  ?" 

How  sweetly  did  she  speak  the  word  !  With 
what  interest !  I  could  almost  have  renounced 
my  real  name  forever  after  that. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  Henry,  hear  me,  and  believe  me. 
There  are  bad  men  here,  very  bad  men — they 
will  do  you  hurt.  Go  home  to  your  people  while 
you  can.  You  are  not  safe  here." 

"  What !  not  with  your  father  ?  He  is  good. 
He  will  protect  me." 

"  Yes,  he  is  good.  He  will  do  all  that  he  can 
for  you,  Henry, — but  he  can  not  do  all.  My 
uncle  is  a  fierce  man — very  violent — and  it  is  not 
always  that  my  father  can  keep  him  from  doing 
wrong.  Besides,  Henry,  my  uncle  likes  you  not. 
He  saw  you  at  Yannaker's." 

"  True, — but  there's  no  reason  why  he  should 
dislike  me  because  he  met  me  there." 

**  No  ! — but  when  he  frowned,  you  frowned 
too  ; — and  he  didn't  like  that.  He  spoke  of  you, 
Oh  1  if  he  comes  back  and  sees  you  here  I" 

"  I  shall  not  fear  him,  Helen." 

"  Beware  of  him— do  not  make  him  angry."     • 

"  Let  him  beware  of  me !" 

*  Hush  !  You  know  not  what  you  say.  He 
is  the  master  here.  He  rules  in  the  swamp.  It 
is  he  who  has  brought  my  father  here.  Hark  1 


64  ttfcLEN    HALSEV. 

They  come.  Oh  !  Henry,  that  you  were  gone- 
gone  away— a  thousand  miles  from  this." 

"  You  with  me,  tlelen,  and  your  prayer  should 
be  mine." 

She  cast  upon  me  but  one  glance,-— but  that 
was  sufficient.  I  felt,  from  that  moment,  that  I 
was  the  master  of  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TIIE  moment  after,  her  father  and  uncle  entered 
the  room.  The  latter  looked  at  me  with  a  keen, 
stern,  searching  glance. 

"  Who's  this  ?     Who  have  we  here  ?* 

He  was  answered  by  his  brother. 

M  The  young  man,  Colman,  of  whom  I  spoke 
to  you." 

"  Colman  i  Colman  !  I  have  seen  his  face  be* 
fore/' 

It  was  the  time  for  me  to  speak. 

"  You  have,  sir, — at  all  events,  I  have  seen 
you.  We  met  a  few  nights  ago  at  one  Yanna* 
kcr's." 

"  Your  memory  is  good,  I  see,**  was  his  reply, 
with  something  of  a  sneer  in  his  accents.  "But 
what  brought  you  here  ?  You  followed  us  !'* 

"  Scarcely,  I  think,  else  I  should  not  have  got 
here  before  you.  My  horse  had  very  much  the 


HELEN     HAl>'i:Y.  65 

selection  of  the  route  to  himself.     In  every  re 
spect  he  may  be  said  to  have  brought  me  here." 
"  And  who  are  you  ?     What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Colman — Henry  Colman,  sir.  I 
am  from  West  Tennessee.  I  have  related  to  this 
gentleman  all  the  facts  in  my  history  necessary 
to  be  known." 

The  tone  of  my  speech  was  intended  to  show  a 
proper  degree  of  resentment  at  the  abruptness  of 
Ills,  and  to  check  the  sort  of  cross-questioning  to 
which  he  seemed  disposed  to  subject  me.  His 
brother  interposed. 

"  Yes,  Bud,  you  have  already  heard." 

"  True, — but  what  of  that.  I  have  no  objec 
tion  to  hear  again.  Truth  never  suffers  from 
twice  telling.  I  know  the  young  fellow  has  kill 
ed  his  man  about  a  horse,  and  flies  here  for  shel 
ter  from  the  Sheriff.  All  very  well,  and  very 
straight ; — but  what's  the  upshot  of  it,  I?oes  he 
expect  to  remain  here  forever — or  does  he  pro 
pose  at  some  convenient  day  to  return,  and  blab 
every  thing  that  he  has  seen  and  heard  among 
those  who  give  him  protection." 

"As  a  man  of  honor," — I  began. 

He  interrupted  me, 

44  Hark  ye,  lad,  were  you  a  spy  upon  us,  you 
would  still  insist,  if  questioned,  that  you  are  a 
man  of  honor.  Perhaps,  it  is  not  men  of  honor 
that  we  want, — but  bondsmen.  We  deal  with 
our  men  as  the  devil  is  said  to  deal  with  them. 
We  take  security  for  their  good  will  to  us,  by  re- 


66  HELEN    IIALaEY. 

quiring  of  them  the  performance  of  some  evil 
deed  to  others.  Will  you  commit  another  crime  ? 
You  see  I  do  not  mince  the  matter.  Will  you 
join  us?" 

I  gave  a  single  glance  at  Helen  Halsey.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  appealing  expression  of  her 
dark  and  dewy  eyes.  Her  hands  were  clasped 
—her  form  bent  forwdrd,  as  if  waiting  for  my  an 
swer.  That  was  tolerably  prompt. 

"Wha'tif  I  say  'No'?" 

"Ha!  you  dare  then?0  and  his  brow  grew 
black ;  the  heavy  muscles  corrugating  in  little 
knots  above  his  eyes,  like  so  many  young  serpents 
coiled  together,  while  his  feet  advanced,  and  his 
shoulders  seemed  to  work  convulsively,  as  if  pre 
paring  for  a  mighty  struggle.  I  receded  a  step, 
and  put  my  hand  into  my  bosom,  as  I  replied : — 

"I  will  not  be  driven  by  any  man." 

Here,  Bush  Halsey,  Helen's  father,  interposed, 
and  drew  the  other  aside.  His  words,  which 
were  those  of  entreaty  and  expostulation,  only 
reached  my  ears  in  part ; — but  the  reply  of  the 
other  was  fierce  and  loud. 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Bush,  for  your  pains,  and  I 
am  a  greater  fool  for  submitting  to  you,  as  I  do. 
You  should  not  meddle  in  these  matters  at  all. 
You  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.-' 

Here  some  words  escaped  me.  Bush  Halsey 
again  spoke,  and  his  reply  was  entirely  lost.  He 
spoke  for  several  minutes,  interrupted  now  and 
then  only  by  some  single  expletive,  uttered  some- 


HELEN    HALSEY.  67 

times  in  scorn,  sometimes  in  impatience,  by  the 
lips  of  the  other.  The  final  speech  of  the  latter, 
set  me  at  rest  for  the  moment. 

"  Have  it  as  you  please.  But  let  him  not  leave 
your  own  premises.  If  I  find  him  prowling 
where  he  should  not  be,  let  him  beware." 

This  was  intended  for  my  ears,  for  the  glance 
which  accompanied  the  words,  was  bestowed 
wholly  upon  myself.  This  said,  he  took  one  step 
towards  us,  then,  suddenly  wheeling  about,  with 
out  a  farther  syllable  to  any,  he  strode  from  the 
apartment,  A  moment  before,  and  Helen  had  re 
tired  to  her  room.  Her  father  then  approached 
me. 

"  You  hear  the  terms  of  your  stay  among  us. 
It  makes  your  retreat  a  prison,  yet  that  is  favor 
able  to  your  circumstances.  No  reproach  can  be 
urged  against  you,  for  remaining  where  you  are 
under  a  sort  of  duresse.  For  your  sake,  I  am 
glad  that  it  is  so.  My  brother  is  a  violent  man. 
We  differ,  as  you  may  see,  materially  in  temper. 
He  has  been  rendered  more  violent,  and  perhaps 
unjust,  by  frequent  injustice.  Indeed,  we  have 
both  suffered  from  a  like  cause ;  but  it  is  my  for 
tune  still  to  remain  somewhat  human — possibly, 
because  I  have  been  left  one  human  blessing 
which  was  denied  to  him.  I  am  still  a  father. 
But  come.  Walk  with  me  now,  and  I  will  show 
you  your  prison  limits.  You  must  not  suppose 
yourself  without  privileges.  Your  bounds  are 
not  too  close  for  sport  and  moderate  exercise. 


68  HELEN    HALSEY. 

The  island  which  I,  occupy  is  free  to  you  in  every 
quarter,  and  it  is  not  so  small  as   you  might 
imagine.    Come,  I  will  shew  you  my  dominions." 
Our  ramble  was  a  long  but  pleasant  one.     My 
prison  was  a  spacious   one,  well  wooded   and 
watered,  completely  insulated  by  creeks,  and  adj- 
mirably  chosen  for  the  residence  of  a  recluse. 
My  companion  carried  me  to  his  favorite  walks 
— pointed  6ut  his  fishing  traps — his  choice  fishing 
grounds  iii   spring   and    summer — a  delectable 
bathing  place,  and  more  than  one  ample  area,  in 
which  could  be  seen  the  implements  of  exercise, 
the  quoit,  the  bar,  &c.,  all  convenient,  and  all  ar 
ranged  with  the  eye  of  experience  and  art.     At 
certain  points  of  view,  I  could  see  men  on  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  creek,  engaged  in  various  duties, 
some  sawing  or  chopping,  others  busy  about  boats 
and  other  matters,  and  now  and  then,  one  might 
be  seen  peering  through  a  copse,  as  if  engaged 
in  no  better  business  than  that  of  seeing  what  his 
neighbors   were   after.      The   redoubtable   Bud 
Halsey  was   no  where  visible.     After   all,   my 
prison  limits  were  not  without  their  attractions. 
Every  moment  with  Bush  Halsey,  proved  him  to 
be  more  and  more  a  man  of  thought  and  obser 
vation.     He  was  full  of  anecdote,  sometimes  in 
dulged  in  a  little  fit  of  broad  humor,  and  was  at 
all  times  the  most  interesting  companion.     And 
when  I  thought  of  Helen,  I  smiled  at  the  thought 
which  could  suppose  that  I  could  feel  any  priva 
tion,  in  the  same  prison  bonds  with  her. 


HELEN    HALBEY.  09 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1  PASS  over  the  events  of  a  week — a  period  in 
which  I  suffered  no  annoyance,  not  even  seeing 
for  a  moment  the  person  of  Bud  Halsey.  No 
doubt  he  was  busy  at  his  usual  operations.  His 
absence  gave  me  no  concern.  Never  was  man 
happier  than  myself.  Never  did  time  pass  so 
pleasantly.  I  began  to  love  my  venerable  host, 
as  well  as  his  daughter.  He  certainly  showed 
himself  a  most  excellent  man.  Thoughtful,  taste 
ful,  philosophical,  his  nightly  conversations  were 
a  rich  treat  that  sometimes  made  me  forget  that 
Helen  was  by  my  side.  Then,  he  had  a  most  ex 
quisite  skill  in  music.  His  flute,  after  I  retired  at 
night,  seemed  the  voice  of  some  complaining  an 
gel.  It  was  so  mellow,  so  wild,  so  sweet  and 
spiritually  sad.  Sometimes,  at  evening,  when 
Ellen  would  be  absent,  he  would  give  me  glimpses 
of  his  life,  and  the  causes  of  his  present  situation. 
So  far  as  I  could  gather  from  him,  his  worst  crime 
was  bankruptcy.  He  owed  money  which  ho 
could  not  pay.  His  person  was  threatened,  and, 
with  a  morbidly  keen  sense  of  freedom,  that 
shrunk  from  the  idea  of  a  goal  as  from  degrada 
tion,  he  fled  tp  the  uncultivated  forests — still  in  pos 
session  of  the  heathen — seeking  safety.  His  child, 
meanwhile,  remained  with  an  aged  relative.  His 
brother  followed  him.  but  with  less  innocent  con- 


70  I!  KU'.N     U  AI.SLY. 

science.  His  hands  were  stained  with  blood.  Ho 
had  incurred,  without  hope  or  excuse,  the  doom 
of  outlawry— outlawry  or  death  !  But,  on  this 
subject,  Bush  Halscy  said  but  little.  That  he 
should  remain  whore  he  was,  and  in  contact  with 
a  brother,  whoso  deeds  he  certainly  ventured  to 
disapprove,  is  only  to  bo  accounted  for  by  assum 
ing  for  him  a  certain  degree  of  phlegmatic  ir- 
resoluteness  of  character.  His  temperament  pos- 
sessed  nothing  of  the  energy  which  distinguished 
that  of  his  brother.  He  was  mild,  playful  and 
persuasive  ;  the  other  harsh,  impetuous  and  com 
manding,  I  need  not  add  that,  save  by  bin  pre 
sence,  ho  had  no  participation  in  the  doings  of  the 
banditti  in  the  midst  of  whom  ho  dwelt.  If  the 
father  improved  upon  acquaintance,  how  much 
more  did  the  daughter.  She  was,  indeed  a  won 
drous  trciiHuro  of  the  wilderness — not  mwply 
beautiful,  but  NMJJIUMOUM  beyond  her  yearn  and 
Hex,— diHguiwing,  under  thu  hnrttliownuii  of  the 
dove,  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent — under  the  sim 
plicity  of  the  child,  the  forethought  and  mature 
mind — on  all  subjects  not  conventional— of  the 
high  souled,  intellectual  woman.  In  merely 
worldly  matters,  she  was  a  child.  She  had  no 
concealment*  The  thought  npoku  out  in  hur 
eloquent  eye,  ere  her  lips  could  utter  it — the  feel 
ing  glowed,  with  a  speech  of  its  own,  upon  her 
cheeks,  ere  yet  her  mind  could  embody  its  char 
acter  in  thought.  How  noun  did  Hhu  show  mo 
that  I  hud  won  her  heart,  and  how  confidingly, 
then,  did  she  walk  with  mo,  speak  with  me, — let  her 


1JELEN    HALSEY.  71 

fancy  have  its  utterance,  though  every  syllable 
and  look  betrayed  her  soul's  dependence  on  my 
own.  We  rambled  and  we  read  together — she 
sang  and  I  listened — as  if  we  were  both  of  the 
same  household.  We  made  every  foot  of  our 
island  limits  our  own.  She  knew  the  restraints 
set  upon  my  footsteps,  and  when,  in  the  delight 
of  my  heart,  and  the  buoyant  impulses  of  my 
spirit,  I  would  have  launched  into  the  canoe,  or 
borne  her  across  the  tree  that  spanned  the  creek, 
and  conducted  to  the  opposite  territory,  she  caught 
my  hand  and  restrained  me.  * 

*"  Do  you  think  I  fear,  Helen  ?" 

"  But  for  my  sake,  Henry." 

For  her  sake,  it  seemed  to  me,  as  if  I  could 
have  done  or  forborne  anything. 

Thus  we  lived,  and  loved — need  I  say  how 
happily,  with  how  few  qualifications.  Yet  quali 
fications  there  were.  How  was  this  to  end  ?  The 
question  forced  upon  me  a  sort  of  self-examina 
tion,  which,  as  it  never  resulted  in  my  own  ac 
quittal,  I  never  allowed  it  to  be  a  protracted  one. 
My  conscience  smote  me  for  the  game  I  was 
playing  with  this  dear  young  creature.  I  really 
had  no  purposes.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  have 
lived  with  her*  and  her  only,  all  my  life ;  but  the 
idea  of  living  all  my  life  in  that  swamp  retreat 
was  unendurable.  And  to  carry  home  with  me 
as  my  bride,  the  daughter  of  an  outlaw,— or,  at 
all  events,  the  niece  of  one,— was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  I  had  lived  too  long  in  the  world  of 
convention  not  to  have  acquired  certain  laws  and 


70  nr.i.r.s   II,U,WI:Y. 

lessons  which  were  fatal  to  the  philosophies  of 
any  being  so  purely  unsophisticated  as  Helen 
Halsey*  Her  heart  was  mine,  but  not  her  philo 
sophies.  Yet,  truth  to  speak,  I  meditated  no  evil. 
I  did  not  meditate  this  matter  at  all,  Life  was 
simply  pasBing  away  in  a  delightful  dream,  and  I 
was  too  much  the  boy  to  be  willing  to  disturb  its 
pleasant  progress  before  the  necessary  time.  But 
there  were  other  qualifications  to  my  enjoyment 
besides  my  own  reflections.  I  discovered  that  my 
steps  wore  closely  watched,  On  tho  occnnion  when 
I  fh'Ht  tnndu  this  diNCovory,  I  hud  been  standing 
with  Helen  on  the  bluff  of  a  creek,  admiring  the  • 
proportions  of  as  lovely  a  cockle-shell  of  a  canoe 
as  ever  danced  over  an  Indian  water,  I  had  been 
trying  to  tempt  her  to  enter  with  me,  She  had 
resisted  and  dissuaded  mo,  and  while  wo  woro 
discussing  the  project,  my  eye  had  suddenly 
caught  tho  glimpse  of  a  living  object  directly  be- 
fore  me,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek.  In 
that  quarter  the  copse  was  exceedingly  dense. 
Canes  and  water-grasses  grew  down  to  the  very 
lips  of  the  stream,  and  in  the  rear  was  a  thick 
hedge  of  evergreens,  shrubs  and  brambles,  slight* 
ly  sprinkled  by  heavy  timber.  A  second  look 
betrayed  to  me  a  pair  of  eyes  keenly  fixed  upon 
our  movements.  In  a  moment  they  had  disap» 
peared.  I  quickly  conceived  the  necessity  of 
saying  nothing  on  the  subject  of  my  discovery, 
and  showing  nothing  in  my  deportment  which 
could  make  it  apparent  to  the  spy  himself.  But 


HEU:N  HALBEY  73 

the  circumstance  left  me  less  at  ease  than  former 
ly.  Another  day,  within  the  same  week,  turning 
suddenly  a  little  lane,  with  Helen,  we  passed  three 
men,  who  observed  us  very  closely.  One  of  these 
men,  particularly,  struck  me  as  one  whom  I  had 
seen  before,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  eyed  me, 
disquieted  me,  as  tending  to  show  that  he  too  wa§ 
striving  in  the  work  of  recognition.  But  he  pass 
ed  on,  and,  with  so  many  objects  to  divert  and 
interest  my  thoughts,  it  was  not  likely  that  this 
should  linger  very  long  in  my  memory,  I  am  very 
sure  it  would  not  have  done  so,  but  for  other  events 
of  like  nature,  which  kept  the  recollection  fresh. 

Meanwhile,  where  was  Bud  Halsey — that 
formidable  and  fierce  bandit?  I  had  seen  no 
thing  of  him  since  that  parting  which  had  been 
so  nearly  a  meeting.  I  was  not  sorry  at  his 
absence,  and  Helen  shared  my  feelings. 

44  Tin  so  glad,"  said  she,  one  day,  as  we  loitered 
through  as  close  a  copse  as  ever  favored  the 
wishes  of  two  foolisK"hearts ; — "  I'm  so  glad  Uncle 
Bud  is  gone.  Some  how,  Henry,  I  tremble  when 
I  think  of  him,  on  your  account.  You  have 
defied  him,  and  he  don't  like  you." 

"  Nay,  he  can  scarce  be  offended  with  me  be 
cause  I  showed  a  proper  manliness.  Besides, 
what  care  we  ?  So  long  as  I  do  not  pass  the 
boundaries,  there  can  be  no  chance  of  our  quarrel 
ing,  and  I'm  sure,  Helen,  unless  you  go  with  me, 
I  do  not  care  how  long  I  remain  in  them*  I 

could  remain  here  for  ever." 
4 


74  HELEN   HALSEY. 

a  Ah  !  you  say  BO,  but  —  " 

"  Truth,  Helbn.  Have  I  not  told  you—  how 
often—  how  much  I  love  you  ?  But  you,  Helen, 
have  not  spoken  once.  Will  you  not  tell  me, 
dearest,  that  you  love  me,  too  ?" 

"  Oh  1  no  1    I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  say  the 


*  But  you  feel  it,  Helen  ?" 

"Oh!  yes,  —  I  feel  as  you  could  wish  me  ;" 
and  shd  turned  and  threw  herself  into  my  arms, 
burying  her  face  upon  my  breast,  and  weeping 
unrestrainedly.  Reader,  were  you  a  boy  once  ? 
•  —  have  you  a  heart?  —  did  you  ever  love?  If 
yea  to  these,  —  you  understand  what  I  cannot 
describe  —  that  moment  of  happiness  I  Until  then 
I  had  regarded  that  verse  in  which  Coleridge 
speaks  of  a  similar  event,  as  an  exaggeration.  In 
•my  silly  conceits  of  convention  —  living  among 
artificial  men  and  women—  I  had  thought  it 
wholly  out  of  reason,  and  all  natural  laws,  that 
an  innocent  girl  should  be  so  audacious.  But  that 
scene  convinced  me—  I  could  neither  doubt  the 
love,  the  truth,  or  the  innocence  of  that  dear 
child  of  the  wilderness,  and  sweet  and  sacred  to 
me  now  are  those  nature-prompted  lines  of  the 
Bard  of  Genevieve  :  —  • 

"  Her  bosom  heaved—  she  slept  aside, 

As  conscious  of  my  look  she  slept,— 
Then  suddenly,  with  timorous  eye, 
She  fled  to  me  and  wept. 


HELEN    HALSEY,  75 

She  half  enclosed  me  with  her  anna, 
She  pressed  me  with  a  meek  embrace, 

And  bending  back  her  head,  looked  up, 
And  gazed  upon  my  face. 

'Twaa  partly  love,  and  partly  fear, 

And  partly  'twas  a  bashful  ait, 
That  I  might  rather  feel  than  tee 

The  swelling  of  her  heart." 

And  thus  we  stood,  thus  we  clung  to  each  other, 
forgetting  earth,  almost  forgetting  heaven, — -if 
such  forgetfulness  were  possible,  at  a  moment 
when  we  were  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  bliss, 
most  like  heavenly,  the  dearest  known  to  earth — 
the  full*  precious  acknowledgment,  in  the  heart 
that  we  seek,  of  that  passion  which  is  flaming 
triumphant  in  our  own  1 


CHAPTER  IX. 

How  long  we  remained  thus,  for  how  many 
moments  she  clung  thus  passionately  to  my  bosom, 
I  cannot  tell.  The  sense  of  enjoyment  seemed  to 
blind  and  render  obtuse  all  the  ordinary  senses. 
I  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing,  felt  nothing,  was 
conscious  of  nothing,  but  her  sobs,  her  glistening 
eyes,  upturned  and  seeming  to  melt  in  the  intense 
gazo  of  my  own,  and  that  beating  heart,  which 


70  HELEN    H.U.fKY. 

seemed  bursting  to  yield  itself  to  the  custody  of 
mine.  In  that  moment  we  were  torn  nsundcr. 
A  strong  grasp  was  laid  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
I  was  hurled  to  the  ground,  half  stunned,  with  a 
heavy  knee  upon  my  breast.  In  the  same  instant, 
the  savage  tones  of  Bud  Halsey  told  me  but  too 
truly  whence  came  the  assault.  It  was  under 
him  I  lay,  with  two  of  his  myrmidons*  at  hand, 
busy  in  preparing  the  ropes  which  were  to  bind 
me.  Recovering  from  her  first  terror  and  sur 
prise,  Helen  clung  to  his  arms,  imploring  my 
release.  But  he  repulsed  her  with  rude  hands 
and  bitter  accents. 

'•Away,  you  are  bold,  wanton — do  you  not 
blush— do  you  not  hang  your  head  in  shame  t 
Have  not  my  own  eyes  surprised  you  in  the 
embrace  of  this  traitor  ?" 

"  Traitor  !"  was  my  exclamation. 

M  Ay,  traitor — traitor  and  liar  !  We  have  dis 
covered  you.  You  are  found  out." 

I  did  not  speak.  I  struggled,  but  I  need  not 
say  how  fruitlessly.  I  was  in  the  arms  of  a  giant, 
and  while  he  held  me  firmly,  his  two  assistants 
passed  their  lines  about  my  wrists,  securing  my 
arms  behind  my  back.  I  was  then  permitted  to 
rise* 

"  There,'*  said  my  enemy,  with  a  bitter  laugh 
ter — •"  there,  Helen  Halsey,  behold  your  lover. 
Oh  !  shame — shame  upon  you,  Helen  !  What 
will  your  father  say  f 

44 My  father!     He  is  here!"  she  exclaimed, 


.      HELEN    HAL8EY.  77 

with  an  accent  in  which  delight  and  suffering 
seemed  equally  expressed.  "  Oh,  father  1  how 
glad  I  am  that  you  are  come.  Save  him  1  Do 
not  let  them  hurt  him — he  is  innocent !" 

It  was  at  this  opportune  moment  that  the  father 
made  his  appearance.  She  darted  forward  as 
she  beheld  him,  caught  his  arm  and  drew  him 
forward.  His  countenance  was  marked  by  doubt 
and  inquiry,  and  was  grave  to  sternness.  Ho 
gave  me  but  a  single  glance. 

44  Bud  Halscy  !  what  is  this  ?  Why  have  you 
bound  the  youth?" 

"  The  serpent !     You  have  been  harboring  a 
serpent  in  your  bosom." 
*What  mean  you?" 

"Tis  as  I  thought.     This  fellow  is  a  traitor— 
a  spy  upon  us.     He  shall  die  the  death  of  one." 
"Oh,  no !  no !    He  is  no  spy — no  traitor." 
Such  was  the  exclamation  of  the  maid.     The 
uncle  turned  upon  her  like  a  hyena. 

"As  for  you,  Miss,  you  should  he  silent  for 
shame.  Send  her  away,  Bush  Halsey — she  has 
no  business  here.  I  found  her  in  the  arms  of  this 
fellow — close  hugged — lip  to  lip  !  Ha  1  did  I 
not?" 

"  Helen  !"  exclaimed  the  father. 
The  girl's  face  was  covered  with  her  hands— 
her  head  drooped — she  seemed  ready  to  sink  into 
the  earth. 

44  Go  home,  Helen !"  ' 

She  looked  up  timidly. 


78  HELEN    HAL8EY.      » 

44 Oh,  father,  you  will  fiave  him?  He  is  no 
traitor !  He  is  innocent  !w  f 

"Are  you  T  he  demanded  in  freezing  accents, 

"  Oh !  my  father !"  she  cried  in  tones  of  mingled 
agony  and  reproach,  as  she  threw  herself  upon  his 
breast,  and  hid  her  face  in  his  bosom.  For  a  mo 
ment  he  seemed  to  press  her  there,  then  suddenly 
pushing  her  from  htm,  uttered  sternly  but  the 
single  word — "  Home  I" 

She  receded  from  him,  looked  at  me  with  a 
glance  of  deepest  apprehension,  then  clasping  her 
hands,  as  if  in  prayer,  moved  slowly  out  of  sight* 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHEN  she  had  disappeared  the  father  spoke. 

M  Now,  Bud  Halsey,  what  is  all  this  ?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  plain  enough.  Have  I  not 
told  you  ?  This  fellow  is  a  spy  upon  us — a  trai 
tor.  He  has  lied — his  whole  story  is  a  lie  P 

The  old  man  looked  at  me  with  stern  but  sor 
rowful  glance. 

"It  is  false  !  I  am  no  traitor."  I  had  uttered 
this  assurance  before — had  spoken  several  times, 
particularly  when  the  rude  assault  was  made  up 
on  Helen  by  her  brutal  uncle  ; — but,  in  my  ex- 
clement,  though  I  very  well  heard  and  under 
stood  what  was  said  by  everybody  else,  I  knew 


HELEN    1IAL3EV.  79 

not  well  what  I  said  myself.  My  asseveration 
now  seemed  to  have  very  little  effect, — upon  Bud 
Halscy  at  least. 

"Oh,  my  good  fellow,  we  expect  your  denials. 
We  look  for  no  admissions  from  you, — no  truth, 
as  long  as  a  lie  will  serve  your  purposes." 

"  A  lie  1"  I  exclaimed  writhing  furiously  in  my 
ropes. 

"Ay,  a  lie!  Look  not  so  indignant. at  the 
charge,  my  lad, — we  have  made  the  discovery, 
that  a  lie  comes  easy  to  you.  Your  invention  is 
good.  But  you  will  pay  for  it.  You  hang,  by 
all  that's  powerful,  to-morrow  morning  !" 

"Hang!"  said  Bush  Halsey. 

"Even  so!" 

"  Pshaw,  Bud ! — you  cannot  mean  it.  You  arc 
not  serious  ?" 

"  As  a  judge !  as  a  judge — the  supreme  judge, 
without  appeal,  in  all  this  region, — I  have  doom 
ed  him.  He  dies  by  sunrise." 

The  affair  was  looking  serious.  The  ruffian 
continued, — interrupting  the  expostulations  of  his 
brother. 

"  The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  this.  I 
have  discovered  that  this  lad,  for  his  own  pur 
poses,  has  come  among  us  with  a  lie  in  his  mouth. 
Suspecting  him  at  first,  I  dispatched  Monks  to 
Tennessee,  to  make  inquiry  as  to  the  truth  of  the 
story  which  he  told  us.  He  has  been  all. through 
Franklin  County,  and  finds  that  the  Sheriff  has  no 
process  against  any  person  named  Henry  Cole- 
man,  that  nobody  of  the  name  of  Backus  has  been 


80  HMJ..V 

murdered  there*  and  tho  whole  afluir  is  a  mere 
invention  of  this  ctyap  to  find  his  way  among  us. 
Now  what  can  be  his  object  but  treachery.  Ha 
is  a  creature  of  tho  Sheriff.  He  would  betray 
us.  Well !  he  probably  understands  the  condi* 
tions  of  his  venture.  He  must  abide  them.  You 
know  our  laws.  He  too  shall  know  them/* 

"  I  cannot  think  the  youth  an  enemy,  Bud  Hal* 
sey,— and  you  recollect  he  is  my  guest." 

"  And  you  are  mine.  You  have  no  right  to 
harbor  a  spy.  Our  safety  makes  this  necessary. 
As  for  his  being  no  enemy,  that  is  possible,  but  I 
think  him  otherwise.  Besides,  as  your  guest,  he 
has  proved  himself  unworthy  of  trust,  since  he 
seeks  the  first  opportunity  to  dishonor  your 
daughter." 

44  You  are  a  foul-mouthed  liar!"— I  exclaimed, 
M  I  love  Helen  Halsey.  Never  was  mortal  love 
less  free  from  taint  than  mine.  This,  indeed, 
brought  me  here.  I  met  her  for  the  first  time  at 
Yannaker's — was  pleased  with  her,  and  set  out  to 
find  her.  Circumstances  helped  me  in  the  pur 
suit,  and  prompted  the  story  which  I  told.  It  is 
true  I  am  no  murderer — no  outlaw.  But  motive 
beyond  what  I  have  told  you,  I  had  none.  No 
thing  but  an  honorable  passion  has  prompted  me 
in  what  I  have  done.  This  alone  has  brought 
me  here." 

"  An  honorable  passion  prompt  a  lie  !"  said  the 
outlaw,  with  a  sneer,  "  But,"  he  resumed,  "if  this 
be  true,  you  are  ready  to  marry  Helen  Halsey?*' 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  81 

His  keen  eye  seemed  bent  to  search  me  through. 
The  eye  of  the  father  also  seemed  on  a  sudden 
to  watch  me  with  a  new  interest.  At  that  mo 
ment  the  idea  struck  me  that  the  whole  affair  was 
a  precc  of  practice — a  conspiracy  among  them — 
to  force  me  into  marriage  ;  and,  with  this  conjec 
ture,  indignant  that  I  should  be  thus  hampered, 
and  forced  into  an  engagement  of  the  sort,  J  for 
got  the  claims  of  poor  Helen — nay,  connected 
her  with  the  scheme — suppressed  my  own  strong 
yearnings  for  the  prize  thus  proffered  me,  and  re 
plied  doggedly  :— — 

"I  would  not  be  compelled  to  marry  an  angel.*' 

"Nor  shall  my  child  be  forced  on  any  one,  Bud 
Ilalsey." 

"  Pshaw,  Bush,  you  are  a  child  yourself.  How 
know  you,  man,  that  the  measure  is  not  necessary 
for  her  safety.  Ay — look  not  so  black  and  scowl 
ing — do  you  not  suppose  I  feel  like  yourself? — 
but  I  say  it  again — to  save  her — to  save  her  from 
shame !" 

The  frame  of  the  old  man  w^.s  violently  agi 
tated.  His  liptf  were  blanched  to  perfect  white 
ness  ; — for  an  instant  his  eyes  glared  on  me  with 
an  expression  akin  to  that  tiger-look  which  his 
brother  habitually  wore, — and  he  exclaimed : — 

"  Speak  not  of  this  to  me,  Bud  Halsey.  I  wili 
not  hear  it  even  from  your  lips.  Could  I  think 
it  true,  1  should  do  murder  myself.  But  it  is  not 
true— it  cannot  be  true,  Helen  is  a*  pure  as 
any  angel  1" 

4* 


82  HELEN    MAL8EY. 

**  She  is  P  I  exclaimed,  fervently. 

"Very  well !  I  am  glad  to  hear  it— -I  am  will 
ing  to  believe  it.  i  You  surely  cannot  be  unwilling 
to  marry  an  angel  ?* 

The  old  man  interrupted  the  outlaw. 

"  I  tell  you,  Bud  Halsey,  that  my  child  must 
not  be  named  again  in  this  business/' 

"  And  I  tell  you,  Bush  Halsey,  that  unless  this 
traitor  weds  with  Helen  Halscy  by  sunrise  to 
morrow,  he  sees  the  Inst  sunrise  of  his  life.  He 
dies  an  bour  after.  Take  him  away,  men,  and 
keep  him  safe  in  the  new  den  1" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

I  WAB  seized  by  a  couple  of  stout  ruffians,  who 
me,  head  and  feet,  as  if  I  had  been  a  mere 
sack  of  straw,  and  hustled  off  Mpon  their  shoulders 
to  the  edge  of  the  creek  where  a  boat  lay,  into 
which  I  was  tumbled  with  as  little  remorse  as 
was  shewn  to  Fallstaff  when  they  emptied  him 
out  of  the  wick-basket  into  the  Thames.  They 
pulled  down  with  me  something  like  a  mile,  then 
landed  on  a  sort  of  island,  which  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  an  almost  impervious  forest.  Once 
more  lifted  upon  their  shoulders,  I  was  borne 
through  narrow  avenues  of  the  wood  a  distance 


HELEN    HALSEV.  83 

of  some  three  hundred  yards  or  more.  Our  course 
seemed  to  be   a   winding  one.     We  at  length 
reached  a  very  strong  log-house,  consisting  of  a 
single  apartment,  probably  twelve  feet  square. 
The  logs  were  hewn  and  fitted  closely.     They 
were  of  the  heaviest  kind.     There  was  no  win 
dow,  and  but  a  single,  and  that  a  very  low  door, 
into  which  I  was  thrust  headlong.     Here  I  was 
left — the  door  fastened  behind  me,  in  a  darkness 
that  was  rather  increased  than  relieved,  by  an  oc 
casional  gleam  of  sunshine  that  stole  here  and 
there  through  chink  or  crevice — to  brood  over  my 
condition,  and  reconcile  myself  to  the  future  pros 
pect  with  what  philosophy  I   could  command. 
That  prospect  was  no  ways  encouraging,  and  my 
philosophy  was  not  of  the  most  composing  or 
consoling  nature.     I  confess  it,  boy-like,  I  fell  into 
very  ridiculous  and  childish  furies,  the  recollection 
of  which,  to  this  day,  brings  the  blush  into  my 
face.     I  raved,  and  swore,  and  flung  myself  about 
upon  the  damp  earth  until  I  was  tired.     A  few 
hours  brought  me  to  my  senses.     Darkness  and 
silence  are  great  subduers  of  passion — great  pro 
moters  of  reflection.    Why  will  not  our  legisla 
tors  discover  this,  and  substitute  imprisonment 
for  life  in  place  of  that  code,  equally  barbarous 
and  ineffective,  which  violently  tears  away  the 
sacred  life  principle,  from  the  temple,  made  after 
the  image  of  God,  in  which  he  has  enshrined  it  ? 
In  the  darkness  of  the  scene — a  gloom,  thick  and 
seemingly  solid  and  tangible — which  was  spread 


84  HELEN    I1AL8EY. 

around  me,— -and  that  awful  stillness  which  seem* 
ed  to  breathe  in  slumbers  of  the  grave— I  began  to 
recover  my  half-banished  senses.  I  began  to 
consider  my  situation.  What  was  that  ?  What 
was  I  to  do"?  What  was  my  hope  ?  It  was  now 
clear  to  me  that,  in  spite  of  the  kindness  of  Bush 
Halsey's  nature,  he  was  powerless  to  save  me. 
He  himself  lived  but  upon  terms  with  his  outlawed 
brother,  who,  I  was  now  persuaded,  was  as  reck 
less  in  his  ferocity  as  he  was  unscrupulous  in  all 
moral  performances.  That  Bush  Halsey  would 
try,  as  he  had  already  tried,  to  save  me,  I  had  no 
question,  even  though  he  might  have  entertained 
some  of  the  loathsome  suspicions  which  his  bro 
ther  had  tried  to  thrust  into  his  mind.  But  I  had 
marked  too  well  the  natural  and  enforced  ex 
pression  of  defiance  which  the  outlaw  had  shown 
towards  himself,  not  to  feel  very  sure  that  there 
was  no  hope  from  his  interposition.  And,  as  for 
the  sweet,  suffering  Helen  1  She  would'  pray,  I 
knew — she  would  be  sleepless  in  the  toil  in  my 
behalf ;— but  what  would  it  avail  ?  I  had  already 
seen,  in  her  frequent  deportment,  how  much  fear 
she  entertained  of  her  brutal  uncle,  and  though 
the  might  acquire  greater  courage  in  approaching 
him  than  usual,  having  my  danger  in  view,  yet,  I 
could  not  deceive  myself  into  the  notion  that  much 
good  would  result  from  any  of  her  entreaties. 
Well, — the  substance  of  my  reflections  led  me 
only  to  this.  I  was  in  the  meshes — in  a  den  of 
thieves  and  murderers,  doomed  to  death,  and 


I11SLEN    IIALSEY.  85 

hoping    nothing    either   from  their    mercy,    or 
their  dread  of  legal  vengeance.     But  there  was 
one  alternative,— one  outlet — allotted  me  of  es 
cape — to  wed  with  Helen  Halsey !     Well,  could 
I   stickle   to   avail   myself   of  this    alternative? 
Nay,  was    not    this   my  own   desire   but   five 
hours  before?     Would  I  not  have  esteemed  such 
a  prize,  a  treasure  beyond  all  price,  but  a  little 
while  ago — the  sole,  great  object  of  my  desire  ? 
Strange,  indeed-  what  perverse  mortals  we  are. 
My  pride  revolted  at  the  idea  of  being  forced  in 
to  the  possession  of  that  which  I  desired  beyond 
all  other  objects.    I  now  persuaded  myself  that 
uncle  and  father;  vr ere  both  in  a  scheme  to  force 
me  into  these  nuptials—that  it  was  a  cunning  de 
vice  to  restore  to  society  some  of  her  outcasts — 
one  of  those  petty,  dirty  little  tricks  of  a  base  and 
cunning  nature,  of  which  I  was  to  be  the  victim. 
I  need  not  say  with  what  loathing  I  revolted  at 
this   suggestion — how  indignant  it  made  me  to 
think,  that  they  could  fancy  me  so  dastardly, 
or  so  blind — and  I  resolved  rather  to  meet  my 
fate,  than  dishonor  my  father's  family,  by  con 
necting  myself  with  such  a  brood.     Let  me  do 
myself  justice,  however.    I  never  for  a  moment 
suspected  Helen  of  any  consciousness  of  this  de 
sign.     No— I  felt  that  she  was  pure  and  true.     I 
did  not  think  it    My  heart  prevented  my  thoughts 
in  her  case,  and,  every  feeling  within  me  rose  in 
arms  against  the  slightest  suggestion  of  my  rea 
son  to  this  effect.    Her  heart  had  been  pressed 


80  HEI.E\    HAL8EY. 

against  my  own — her  face,  covered  with  mingling 
tears  and  blushes,  |iad  been  buried  in  my  bosom, 
and  that  sacred  pressure  had  been  enough,  not 
only  to  endear  her  to  me  forever,  but  to  make  me 
confident  in   her  truth  and  loyalty.     Ah!  thai 
first  press  of  heart  to  heart,  when  both  hearts  are 
young  and  ardent.     What  a  volume  does  it 
teach !    What  a  life  does  it  embody  ! — how  full 
of  assurances  and  inquiries,  and  promises  and 
hopes, — sweet  regrets, — and  pleasures,  so  acute, 
as  almost  to  be  akin  to  pain !     That  first  kiss  of 
love— that  first  dear,  stolen  embrace, — the  keen 
est  joy  of  life,  to  which  none  after  bears  likeness, 
—in  comparison  with  which  all  other  joys  are 
dwarfed !     Still,  quivering  in  my  whole  soul  with 
'the  rapture  of  this  embrace,  I  could  not  think  of 
the  dear  girl,  with  whom  I  shared  it,  but  as  a 
victim  like  myself.     Yet,  so  thinking,  I  would  not 
stomach  the  necessity  of  being  forrod  to  wed 
her,  by  the  imperious  will  of  a  person  I  despised. 
The  more  I  brooded  on  this  threatened  necessity, 
the  more  I  revolted  from  it,  and  resolved  against 
it.     '  No  !'  I  exclaimed  bitterly,  in  all  the  heroics 
of  boyhood, — « sooner  let  me  perish  T 

Having  reached  this  conclusion,  I  found  com* 
posure.  I  stretched  myself  at  length  upon  the 
ground,  which  I  had  now  leisure  to  see  was 
strewed  pretty  thickly  with  dried  leaves,  and  was 
surprised  by  sleep ; — and,  dreaming  of  a  fierce 
and  deadly  struggle  with  the  outlaw,  Bud  Hal- 
sey,  I  was  awakened,  somewhere  about  midnight, 


HEI.K.N     HALHKY.  87 

by  a  rough  hand  laid  upon  my  shoulder, — a  rough 
voice,  which  I  too  well  remembered,  in  my  ears —  • 
and,  flashing  in  my  eyes,  a  huge  torch,  by  the 
blaze  of  which  I  was  half  stupified  and  blinded. 
The  intruder  was  Bud  Halsey.  He  stuck  the 
torch  in  a  crevice  of  the  wall,  and  calmly  seating 
himself  before  me,  regarded  me  with  a  glance  of 
the  keenest  inquiry.  I  need  not  say  that  I  re- 
turned  it  with  one  of  scorn  and  defiance,  and  we 
looked  upon  one  another  in  this  manner,  in  a 
silence  which  lasted  for  several  minutes.  At 
length,  ho  sa:d: 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  understand  your  true 
condition,  young  man.  Did  you  suppose  that  I 
was  trifling  with  you  when  I  sent  you  here  ?" 

"  If  you  were,"  I  answered,  "  it  is  a  sort  of 
trifling  which  I  should  be  very  loth  io  forgive, 
should  the  moment  ever  arrive  when  resentment 
would  be  to  any  purpose.  I  cannot  suppose  you 
•were  trifling." 

"  You  are  a  lad  of  more  sense  than  I  had  given 
you  credit  for.  The  rest  ought  to  be  easy.  You 
see  your  condition.  You  have  heard  your  fate. 
You  have  had  time  for  reflection.  Are  you  pre 
pared  ?  Will  you  choose  ?  Will  you  hang,  or 
marry  the  foolish  girl  you  have  dishonored  ?" 

**  You  dishonor  her  by  your  foul  breath,  and 
foul  imagination.  She  is  pure  as  heaven." 

**  Pskaw  1  young  man  !  Do  you  suppose  me 
as  unread  as  yourself  in  the  history  of  human 
nature  ?  Do  I  not  know  the  weakness  of  woman's 


8ft  Iir.l.l'.N    IIAL8CY. 

nature,  and  the  recklessness  of  man's  nature, 
when  occasion  serves  and  opportunity  invites  ? 
But  this  as  it  may.  I  give  you  an  alternative. 
If  you  have  not  wronged  Helen  Halscy,  and  you 
lovo  her,  a*  you  profons,  so  much  tho  ICHH  nhould 
be  your  reluctance  to  marry  her.  If  you  did  not 
design  to  marry  her  before,  as  I  suppose  from 
your  unwillingness  now,  there  is  every  reason 
for  suspecting  you  as  I  do,  and  taking  for  granted 
all  the  worst  that  one  evil  nature  can  imagine  of 
another.  On  thin  subject  we  need  waste  no 
wovds.  The  simple  question  is  before  you.  Will 
you  marry  her  ?" 

"  Where  is  her  father  ?  I  would  see  and  speak 
with  him." 

'•  You  cannot." 

41  Why  not  ?    Ho  will  not  refuse  mo," 

"  But  I  will !  Look  you,  young  man,  Bush 
Halscy  is,  in  some  respects,  as  great  a  simpleton 
as  yourself.  If  ho  had  a  voice  in  the  matter,  he 
would  send  you  homo  to  your  mother,  perhaps 
fill  your  pockots  with  ginger-bread,  pat  you  on 
tho  htwd,  bid  you  go  on  your  way  rejoicing,  and 
shed  a  flood  of  benevolent  tears  at  your  departure. 
But  I  am  the  master  here  !  I  am  the  outlaw  !  I 
do  and  counsel  the  robberies,  and,  if  you  please, 
I  command  and  execute  the  murders.  You  know 
enough  to  inako  tho  task  of  confession  on  my 
part  a  very  oasy  one.  You  know  too  much  ! — 
And  this  is  the  true  reason  of  your  predicament. 
You  came  here  of  your  own  free  will,  knowing 


HELEN    HAI.HEV.  89 

among  whom  you  came,  and  practising  deception 
and  falsehood   to  wind  yourself  in   among  our 
secrets.     You  are  a  spy,  and  our  situation  is  such 
as  to  render  us  rather  unscrupulous  with  that 
sort  of  persons.     But  I  am  willing  to  please  my 
brother,  and  to  gratify  my  niece.      They  are 
pleased  with  you,  and  I  have  not  scrupled  to  say, 
and  I  repeat,  notwithstanding  your  denials,  that  I 
think  it  necessary  that  you  should  marry  her.     It 
is  for  this  reason  that  I  propose  to  you  this  alter 
native,  grant  you  this  time  for  reflection,  and 
seek  you  out  at  midnight  to  enlighten  you  more 
fully  on  the  necessity  of  the  thing.     Had  it  not 
been  for  this,  I  should  have  had  you  knocked  on 
the  head  without  a  word  of  parley ;  and,  sure  that 
we  should  have  no  further  trouble  at  your  hands, 
should  be   now  comfortably  asleep,  instead   of 
sitting  here,  at  midnight,  endeavoring  to  make 
you  sensible  of  your  danger.     There  now — you 
have  the  whole,  and  what  is  your  answer  ?" 

The  whole  manner  of  the  outlaw  was  so  con- 

^  tcmptuous,  his  tones  so  cold  and  sneering,  his 

suggestions   so  unfeeling,  and  everything  about 

him  so  offensive  to  my  feelings,  that  I  forgot  my 

own  danger,  and  replied  promptly  : — 

"  Nothing  !    I  have  no  answer."  * 

"  Nothing  !    You  have  no  answer  ?" 

44 None  for  you" 

**  Very  good  !  I  leave  you  !  You  may  look 
for  me  at  sunrise,  when  you  may  probably  be 
better  able  to  find  an  answer.  Good  night." 


00  HELEN    HAL0EY. 

Coolly  detaching  the  torch  from  the  wall,  he 
waved  it  around  so  as  to  take  in  at  a  glance  the 
entire  apartment,  and  without  further  word,  left 
the  dungeon.  The  door  was  carefully  fastened 
behind  him,  and  the  sound  of  voices  without,  led 
me  to  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not  omit  the  pre 
caution  of  placing  a  guard  upon  the  premises.  In 
a  few  moments  more  I  was  left  in  darkness,  and 
to  rny  own  rofluntionH.  Thcno  worn  not  HO  gloomy, 
They  wor(f  of  a  stern  and  angry  sort.  I  hud  been 
irritated,  not  subdued,  and,  to  confess  a  truth,  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  the  case 
was  so  desperate  as  the  outlaw  made  it  appear. 
I  could  not  think  that  Bush  Iltilncy  wa«  so  pow- 
t'rlcNN,  or  that  1  nhould  bo  abandoned  to  such  a 
cruel  futo.  It  was  all  a  contrivance  to  terrify 
me  into  certain  measures,  and  it  was  only  a  test 
of  manliness  which  was  to  hold  out  longest.  I 
was  resolved  not  to  show  the  white  feather,  and, 
after  a  while,  fell  asleep,  as  if  nothing  threatened 
in  the  morning. 


HELEN    HAL9EY.  01 


CHAPTER  XII. 

**  No  !  No  !"  I  exclaimed  at  waking,  which  I 
did  early, — "  my  neck  was  never  made  for  a  hal 
ter."  I  tried  to  raise  my  hands  to  it  as  it'  to  as 
sure  myself  that  there  was  not  one  already  around 
it,  but  the  ropes  with  which  I  had  been  bound, 
and  which,  for  the  moment,  I  had  forgotten, 
checked  somewhat  the  exulting  nature  of  my 
thoughts,  as  they  checked  the  movements  of  my 
arms.  I  had  been  dreaming  of  the  events  which 
had  taken  place,  and  my  exclamation  was  pro 
bably  due  to  the  character  of  my  dreaming 
thoughts.  I  now  repeated  it,  as  if  to  assure  my 
self,  but  it  called  up  as  unpleasant  and  unnatural 
on  echo,  as  ever  was  heard  in  Killarney.  The 
voice  of  Bud  Halsey,  speaking  outside,  replied : 

44  That's  a  matter  about  which  no  man  is  sure 
for  thirty  minutes.  In  fifteen,  a  cord  may  be  ad- 
justed,  and  where  the  woods  are  convenient,  the 
affair  may  be  all  over  in  twenty.  In  your  case, 
it  still  depends  upon  yourself  whether  you  escape 
the  present  danger.  You  have  still  a  few  minutes 
to  sunrise  !w 

The  suddenness  of  the  response,  its  character, 
and  the  character  of  the  man  by  whom  it  was 
spoken,  all  combined  to  send  a  chill  through  my 
body,  which  it  had  not  felt  before.  The  next 


92,  HELEN    UAL0EY* 

moment  the  door  opened,  and  he  appeared  before 
me.  You  have  already  had  a  description  of  the 
man,  but  now  there  was  a  sly  grin  upon  his  fea« 
tures  which  they  did  not  usually  wear,  and  which 
seemed  to  betray  a  sort  of  satisfaction  which  he 
yet  labored  to  discourage  and  keep  down.  Tho 
effort  of  a  man  passionate  by  nature,  to  subdue 
the  show  of  impulses  which  are  yet  grateful,  will 
usually  result  in  some  such  conflict  upon  the  fea 
tures,  than  which,  perhaps,  there  is  nothing  more 
unpleasant  to  behold.  I  had  much  rather  seen 
him  furious.  * 

"Well,  young  man/*  he  said,  entering,  "the 
time  is  at  hand  for  your  final  answer.  You  have 
till  sunrise.  It  will  not  be  ten  minutes  before  you 
see  his  red  streaks  on  the  top  of  that  pine.  Bring 
him  out,  men,  that  he  may  see  more  easily/* 

His  orders  were  obeyed,  and  I  found  myself, 
still  bound  hand  and  foot,  laid  down  before  the 
door  of  the  dungeon  which  I  had  just  occupied. 
I  now  felt  the  cold,  which  I  had  not  experienced 
to  any  very  unpleasant  degree  during  the  night. 
But  now  I  was  chilled  and  uncomfortable,  and 
what  with  the  rigid  position  in  which  my  limbs 
were  fixed,  and  the  effect  of  the  keen  morning 
breeze  upon  me,  coming  out  suddenly  as  I  did 
from  one  of  the  closest  log  houses,  my  teeth  al 
most  chattered.  I  fancied  that  the  outlaw  per 
ceived  my  discomfort,  and  that  he  probably  as 
cribed  it  to  another  cause,  for  his  features  put  on 
that  same  expression  of  a  satisfaction*  which  he 


IIKLEN    i;  M.^F.Y.  03 

yet  labored  to  conceal.  It  was  with  some  effort 
of  will,  that  I  succeeded  in  keeping  down  my 
tremors.  There  were  some  four  persons,  stout 
ruffians,  loitering  about.  One  was  busy  in  build 
ing  a  fire,  two  others  stood  apart  at  some  little 
distance,  conversing  in  low  tones  together  and 
looking  occasionally  at  'me,  while,  directly  at  my 
side,  sat  a  fourth,  coolly  disentangling  a  plough- 
line,  the  probable  uses  of  which  I  did  not  venture 
to  conjecture.  But  it  did  not  help  much  to  lessen 
my  shivering  tendency, 

"  Step  back  a  moment,  Warner,"  said  the  out 
law  to  this  assistant.  "  The  lad  has  little  time 
for  talk." 

The  fellow -did  as  he  was  bidden.  He  looked 
upon  me  as  he  moved  away,  and  I  fancied  that  I 
knew  his  features.  I  had  seen  him  gazing  at  me 
once  before,  while  I  walked  -with  Helen,  and  it 
then  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  seen  him  elsewhere. 
I  was  now  sure  of  it, — but  where  ?  At  all  events, 
if  he  ever  knew  me  before,  there  was  every  rea 
son  to  apprehend  that  he  also  would  remember 
me.  But  I  had  not  time  to  think  of  him.  When 
he  had  withdrawn,  Bud  Halsey  began,  as  he  al 
ways  did,  with  sufficient  abruptness. 

"  Well,  young  man  1  the  time  is  at  hand  for 
your  final  answer.  You  may  not  know  me — you 
may  think  me  jesting, — anything,  but  serious— 
but  look  you,  tin  I  live,  and  as  the  sun  shines,— 
by  Heaven,  or  by  Hell,  there  is  but  one  escape 
lor  you  from  death,  and  that  is  by  marriage  with 
my  niece.  Nothing  else  can  save  you ;  and,  but 


04  HELEN    I1A1.HKY. 

for  what  I  suppose  to  be  her  situation,  her  feel 
ings,  and  those  of  Bush  Halsey,  who  has  very 
much  the  feelings  of  a  girl — but  for  them,  even 
this  choice  should  not  be  allowed  you.  Nay,  to 
show  you  how  large  is  the  concession  which  I 
make,  I  tell  you  that  I  now  know  you  to  be  the 
son  of  one  of  my  deadliest  enemies,  one  of  those 
men  who  have  made  me  what  I  am,  and  to  whom 
I  owe  nothing  but  undying  hate.  Your  father,  in 
his  official  capacity,  as  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Alabama,  robbed  me,  by  an  unrighteous 
decision,  of  lands  and  fortune.  Enough,  Master 
Henry  Meadows,  otherwise  Colman,  you  see 
where  you  are,  what  is  known  of  you,  and  expect 
ed,  and  what  you  have  to  expect.  •  You  see  the 
men  are  in  waiting,  the  cord  is  ready,  and  you 
are  already  under  the  tree  from  which  you  may 
be  suspended.  It  has  borne  as  stout  a  man  be 
fore." 

He  turned  from  me  as  he  spoke,  and  joined  the 
two  men  who  were  conversing  at  a  little  distance, 
said  a  few  words  to  them,  pointed  towards  me, 
then  disappeared  in  the  wood.  But  a  few  mo 
ments  had  elapsed,  when  he  again  came  in  sight, 
and  approached  me. 
M  Your  answer,  Henry  Meadows  T 
The  smile  had  disappeared  from  his  features. 
The  face  was  savage  and  stern  in  the  extreme. 
There  was  nothing  there  of  encouragement,  and 
during  his  absence  my  own  reflections  were  of  a 
confused  and  conflicting  character.  I  need  not 
say  that  I  could  not  convince  myself  of  the  earn- 


HELEN    11ALSEY.  95 

cstness  and  sincerity  of  the  man — I  could  not  per 
suade  myself,  that  such  a  destiny  was  really  con 
templated  for  me.  My  pride  determined  my 
course.  Was  I  to  be  made  a  laughing-stock,  a 
butt — pointed  at  as  one  scared  into  marriage — 
led  to  the  altar,  through  dread  of  the  halter ! — 
even  the  jingle  of  the  words  suggested  itself  to 
me  at  the  moment,  and  the  thought  that  such  a 
jingle  would  commend  the  anecdote,  in  future 
days  at  my  expense,  contributed  to  strengthen 
me  in  my  resolution  of  defiance.  My  answer 
was  ready. 

"  I  defy  you,  Sir.  Do  with  me  as  you  please, 
But  you  shall  not  force  me  to  your  purpose." 

He  hesitated — gazed  at  me  for  a  moment,  as  I 
fancied,  with  an  expression  of  chagrin,  and  then 
replied : — 

"Very  well,  young  man, — as  you  please!  I 
have  done  all  that  I  could — more  than  I  ever  ex 
pected  to  do  to  save  any  one  caught  in.  your  situ 
ation.  Your  blood  upon  be  your  own  head.  Ho ! 
fellows !" 

He  waved  his  hand  and  the  subordinates  drew 
nigh. 

"Are  you  ready?     Secure  your  man  !" 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  was  caught  up 
and  placed  upon  my  feet,  while  the  fellow  named 
Warner,  adjusted  the  defiling  cord  about  my 
neck,  and,  with  the  end  in  his  hand,  proceeded  to 
climb  the  tree  under  which  I  stood.  I  writhed 
in  my  bonds— I  could  not  struggle,  for  hand  and 
feet  were  equally  secured.  But  my  writhing 


90  HELEN    UAL8EY* 

was  in  vain.  Indeed,  so  well  fastened  had  I  been* 
that,  but  for  the  support  of  one  of  the  outlaws,  I 
could  not  have  kept  my  feet.  The  moment 
was  one  of  unmixed  horror.  I  began  to  fear 
that  the  farce  was  to  become  a  tragedy.  I  look 
ed  searchingly  into  the  face  of  tho  outlaw,  but  it 
expressed  nothing  but  the  most  dogged  determi 
nation.  Tho  sun,  at  the  same  instant,  threw  a 
golden  crown  upon  the  brow  of  a  towering  pine, 
some  thirty  yards  in  advance  of  the  spot  where  I 
stood.  I  shivered  !  Where  was  Bush  Halsey  ? 
Where  Helen?  My  head  seemed  to  swim.  I 
was  growing  blind.  Father,  mother! — could  this 
all  be  true  1  was  I  thus  doomed !  Torn  from  you, 
to  see  you  never  more !  I  felt  that  my  senses 
were  insecure — that  I  could  no  longer  depend 
upon  them,— but  I  could  hear — hear  every  sylla 
ble,  every  breathing.  That  one  faculty  seemed 
to  grow  doubly  acute  at  the  expense  of  all  the 
rest.  There  was  a  whispering  among  the  ac 
cessories.  Then  came  the  deep  but  low  words 
of  the  principal. 

"  Run  him  up  !  There's  no  use  to  wait.  He's 
pluck  to  the  last.  He'll  die  game  !" 

I  felt  the  motion — my  feet  were  gone  from 
under  me.  I  strove  to  cry  aloud,  but  the  words 
subsided  into  a  husky  murmur,  and  I  resigned 
myself — how— with  what  grace — with  what  hope 
— with  what  thoughts,  if  any, — to  the  last  terrible 
change  ! — when,  sudden,  I  heard  a  cry — a  pierc 
ing  shriek — I  knew  the  tones  of  that  voice — I 


HELEN    HAL3EY.  07 

knew  the  nature  of  that  cry !  The  voice  was 
Helen's, — the  cry — oh !  God  !  it  was  the  lost 
woman's  appeal — for  mercy,  mercy,  mercy  !  I 
too  strove  to  echo  the  cry,  but  I  was  choking. 
I  could  hear  the  hollow  gurgling  of  the  breath  in 
my  own  throat — I  could  feel  it ! — That  was  all  1 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I  WAS  conscious  of  a  sudden  but  not  unpleasant 
concussion.  I  awakened,  opened  my  'eyes,  and 
found  myself  upon  the  ground,  with  Helen  cling 
ing  to  me,  and  plucking  at  the  cord  about  my 
neck, — while  the  outlaw  was  contending  almost 
violently  with  her  father.  I  understood  the  affair 
in  a  few  moments.  Bush  Halsey  still  held  in  his 
grasp  the  knife  with  which  he  had  smote  the 
cord  by  which  I  was  .suspended.  I  had  been 
rescued  at  the  last  moment — rescued,  it  was  very 
evident  from  what  I  then  saw,  without  any  par 
ticipation  in  the  act  by  the  outlaw.  He  still  ap 
peared  resolute  upon  my  death,  and,  by  the 
numerous  gathering  of  ruffians  by  whom  he  was 
surrounded,  and  who  seemed  only  to  await  his 
final  orders,  I  felt  very  certain  that  the  dreadful 
scene  must  be  renewed.  I  spare  the  arguments 
and  expostulations  of  Bush  Halsey.  I  say  no 
thing  of  the  tears  and  entreaties  of  Helen. 
5 


OS  HELEN    IIAUJEY. 

44  Let  him  submit— let  him  obey !— let  him  act 
as  a  man  of  honor !"— was  the  final  answer  of  the 
outlaw. 

44  He  will — he  will  submit  !*  was  the  cry  of 
Helen— poor  girl — not  knowing  what  was  the 
requisition. 

"  Give  him  time — treat  him  as  a  man  of honor T 
was  the  answer  of  her  father. 

The  tears  of  Helen — her  beauty — the  passion 
ate  and  unmeasured  interest  which  she  expressed 
in  my  fate — no  longer  restrained  by  the  dread 
of  her  uncle,— the  awe  of  her  father,  or  the  natural 
apprehension  and  modesty  of  her  sex— did  more 
to  reconcile  me  to  compliance  than  did  all  the 
violence  of  the  outlaw  ! 

44  Hear  me,"  I  exclaimed,  interrupting^  the  dis 
pute  ;: — "  hear  me,  sir," — addressing  Bud  Halsey, 
— ''had  you  been  more  reasonable,  and  less 
violent  at  first,  all  would  have  been  easy.  I  am 
willing  to  marry  Helen — nay,  should  have  sought 
her,  in  due  time,  at  the  hands  of  her  father.  It 
was  in  pursuit  of  her  that  I  sought  out  your  re 
treat  in  the  swamp,  and  it  was  in  order  to  obtain 
more  ready  admission  that  I  framed  the  story  of 
a  crime  which  I  had  never  committed.  My 
hands  are  innocent  of  blood,  and  I  am  no  spy 
upon  you.  Under  the  ardent  passion  which 
brought  me  here,  I  should  have  regarded  the 
Tiand  of  Helen  as  the  dearest  blessing  which 
could  be  bestowed  upon  me,  and  1  am  only  sorry 
that  your  violence,  by  wounding  my  pride,  should 


I1CLEN    IIALSEY.  09 

have  prompted  me,  even  for  a  moment,  to  reject 
such  a  boon.     I  do  not  ask  for  life — I  make  no 
such  prayer  to  you — I  can  die,  I  trust,  like  a 
man — but  I  am  willing  to  comply  with  your  c«. •- 
ditionsP  O..C.X.. 

**  Loose  him  P  was  all  that  Bud  Halsey  vouch 
safed  to  say,  as  he  turned  off. 

"Oh!  my  Henry  P  was  the  exclamation  of 
poor  Helen,  as  she  swooned  away  upon  my 
bosom. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BUT  the  swoon  of  joy  occasions  no  apprehen 
sions.  My  bonds  were  severed,  and  Helen  re 
covered,  so  that  we  were  enabled  to  return  to 
gether  to  the  cottage  of  her  father.  He  was 
kind  to  me,  but  grave.  It  is  not  improbable  that 
Bud  Halsey  had  succeeded  in  filling  him  with 
some  of  the  base  suspicions  which  were  strong 
in  his  own  bosom.  Helen 'was  happy,  with  a 
sort  of  uneasy  happiness.  Whether  she  seemed 
to  doubt  the  reality  of  the  event,  or  that  she  felt 
that  my  consent  to  the  marriage  with  her  had 
been  somewhat  extorted,  in  spite  of  my  avowals, 
I  cannot  say; — but,  though  smiling  and  declaring 
herself  blest,  there  was  a  restless,  feverish  excitu- 


100  IIELEN    1IALSKY. 

bility  in  her  action  and  movements  which  did  not 
usually  mark  them.  For  my  own  part,  I  was 
sore  equally  in  mind  and  body.  The  latter  had 
not  passed  through  the  humiliating  scenes  just 
described  without  undergoing  some  hurts  ami 
bruises.  But4hese  were  as  nothing  to  the  men 
tal  annoyances  which  the  same  events  had  pro 
duced.  I  had  been  trampled  upon — dishonored 
—my  person  degraded  by  the  hands  of  ruffians, 
and  by  fhe  shameful  and  defiling  rope.  I 
felt  mean  and  humbled,  and,  it  may  be,  that, 
showing  something  of  this  feeling,  in  my  inter 
course  with  Helen,  I  had  caused  in  her  that  ap 
pearance  of  inquietude  which  marred,  in  some  de 
gree,  the  more  grateful  appearance  of  her  happi 
ness.  But  I  must  not  linger  on  this  matter.  Bud 
Halsey  was  a  man  to  move  with  all  imaginable 
promptness,  and  that  very  night  he  made  his  ap 
pearance  at  the  cottage,  accompanied  by  a  young 
man,  decently  clad  in  black,  with  something  of 
the  outward  appearance  of  a  Divine*  Such  he 
was,  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  make  certain  al 
lowances,  of  which  more  hereafter.  He  was  in 
troduced  to  mo  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mowbray — a 
gentleman  of  the  Episcopal  persuasion.  He  was 
a  fine  looking  young  man  of  ilorid  complexion,  a 
bright  blue  eye  with  a  restless  roving  twinkle, 
which  betrayed  an  unsettled  and  capricious  dis 
position.  His  temperament  and  the  general  ex 
pression  of  his  features,  showed  the  presence  of 
strung,  unregulated  passions.  Surprised  at  seeing 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  101 

him  where  he  was,  and  procured  with  so  much 
readiness,  I  was  still  more  surprised  to  learn  that 
he  was  a  regular  resident  of  the  swamp — one  of 
the  community — sharing  in  its  spoils,  and,  possi 
bly,  though  of  this  I  could  say  nothing,  partaking 
in  all  its  miserable  practices.     The  singular  moral 
anomaly  of  the  criminal,  influenced  by  superstition, 
and  insisting  upon  having  a  sort  of  religion  of  his 
own,  even  while  engaged  in  the  grossest  violation 
of  all  moral  and  divine  laws,  is  too  well  known 
and  of  too  frequent  occurrence,  to  render  neces 
sary  hero  ony  elaborate  metaphysics.     Perhaps, 
the  wonder  is,  that  such  contradiction  should  bo 
found  among  a  Protestant  people.     In  such  coun 
tries  as  Italy  and  Spain,  the  anomaly,  if  still  diffi 
cult  of  explanation,  is  yet,  because  of  our  familiar 
ity  with  its  occurrence,  of  less  startling  effect  and 
character.     There,  it  has  been  usual  to  refer  it 
to  the  mixed  influences  of  a  bad  political  govern 
ment,  and  the  habitual  training  of  a  priesthood, 
forever  indefatigable  in  the   maintenance  of  its 
powers.     The  crime  is  partly  the  result  of  neces 
sity  and  circumstances, — the  superstition  of  mixed 
ignorance  and  training.     The  same  anomaly  in 
America,  and  with  the  descendants  of  the  ancient 
Puritans,  must  find  some  other  explanation.    Here, 
it  was,  undeniably;  and  I  soon  found  that  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Mowbray,  was  not  only  useful  (?) 
where  he  was,  but  that  there  were  frequent  c  3ca- 
sions  for  his  services.     The  sick  had  his  prayers, 
and  the  burial  at  which  he  did  not  officiate  was  a 


10$  HWUBN   HALSEY. 

subject  of  no  little  dissatisfaction  among  the  living 
friends  of  the  deceased.    On  the  Sabbath,  when 
the  business  of  the  community  was  not  urgent, 
his  preaching  was  well  attended.    Subsequently, 
1  was  given  to  understand,  that,  it  was  owing  to 
the  expression  of  some  discontent  on  the  part  of 
one  of  the  assistants,  that  I  was  not  to  be  allowed 
the  ghostly  help  of  this  gentleman,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  my  execution,  that  led  to  the  delay  in  car- 
rying  into  effect  the  sentence  of  the  Outlaw  Chief, 
and  so,  accordingly,  to  my  rescue.    Complying 
with  the  suggestion  of  the  subordinate,  Bud  Hal* 
sey  sent  for  his  chaplain,  and  thus  my  danger  be 
came  noised  abroad,  so  as  to  reach  the  ears  of 
Helen  and  her  father,  in  season  to  bring  them  to 
my  rescue.    You  may  take  for  granted,  that,  from 
that  moment,  I  readily  recognised  the  importance 
of  a  regular  chaplain  to  a  band  of  robbers.    My 
bride  made  her  appearance  in  all  her  beauty,  and 
with  all  the  usual  becoming  blushes.    Beautiful 
she  was,  and  the  simplicity  of  her  costume,  amply 
set  off  and  distinguished  the  peculiarity  of  her 
charms.     I  forgot,  as  I  surveyed  her,  the  painful 
circumstances  which  had  conducted  me  to  this 
event.     I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  passion  with 
which  she  now  filled  me — how  lovely  she  was  in 
my  eyes— how  precious  to  my  heart.     I  took  her 
hand  with  rapture,  and,  for  a  moment,  had  no 
feeling  but  one  of  unalloyed  happiness.    But,  even 
as  the  service  proceeded,  while  my  lips  uttered 
the  sacred  responses,  a  dark  cloud  passed  over 
my  imagination.     My  eyes  ceased  to  behold  the 


HELEN    HAI.SEY.  103 

actual,  surrounding  objects,  I  was  transported  to 
another  region.  I  beheld  another  and  very  dif 
ferent  sight.  The  good  old,  well  ordered,  well 
adorned  Hall  at  Lcaside,  with  all  its  images  of 
solemnity  mixed  with  comfort,  rose  up  before  my 
glance.  My  father  and  my  mother — the  one 
sternly  contemplative — the  other  sad,  but  smiling, 
as  if  in  spite  of  the  numerous  apprehensions  that 
struggled  about  her  maternal  heart.  Ah !  could 
they  conjecture  where  I  stood  and  how  engaged 
—in  what  ceremony — so  awful,  so  irrevocable, 
so  important  to  their  son, — so  interesting  to  them 
selves — in  which  they  were  not  permitted  to  par 
take — of  which  they  were  not  permitted  to  know! 
I  felt  a  growing  weakness  in  my  eyes, — mastered 
my  resolution,  spoke  audibly  the  last  responses, 
and  clasped  my  brido  to  my  bosom.  With  tho 
kiss  which  I  then  pressed  upon  her  lips,  came  a 
ciowd  of  confused  thoughts  and  inquiries.  I  was 
a  husband  at  eighteen.  An  outlaw's  daughter 
was  my  bride.  Had  I  left  tne  home  of  my  father 
for  this  ?  What  had  I  become  ?  What  was  I  to 
become  ?  What  was  to  be  the  fruit  of  this  affair? 
What  fate  was  before  me  ?  Was  I,  too,  to  become 
an  outlaw  ?  Was  I  forever  cut  off  from  society 
and  my  father's  home  ?  I  could  not  answer  these 
inquiries,  and — which  was  worse — I  could  not  dis 
miss  them.  Was  I  happy  ?  That  was  another 
question,  the  answer  to  which  must  be  confided 
to  the  future ! 


104  RCLEN    HALBEY. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Bur  youth — the  youth  which  has  been  accus 
tomed  to  indulgence — lives  so  much  in  the  grati 
fication  of  its  passions  and  desires,  that  reflection, 
\vhich  is  the  result  of  training  and  habit,  does  not 
often  disturb  the  enjoyment  of  the  present  mo 
ment.  Asi  for  happiness,  this  is,  at  no  period,  a 
proper  question.  We  have  very  little,  in  this 
life,  to  do  with  happiness.  We  have  only  to  live 
as  long  as -we  can,  endure  as  sturdily  as  we  can, 
and  do  our  duty  with  our  best  strength  and  man 
hood.  A  lad  of  eighteen,  brought  up  as  I  had 
been,  to  be  very  much  his  own  master,  is  chiefly 
considerate  of  the  day,  and  of  what  it  shall  bring 
forth.  With  a  very  different  signification  and  com 
mentary,  tho  scripture  apothegm  is  his — sum*- 
•cient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof— and  the  good 
also.  In  boy-language,  I  was  happy,  in  spite  of 
the  momentary  misgivings  that  disturbed  me  at 
the  altar.  I  was  a  husband.  I  had  taken  the 
highest  duties  of  manhood  upon  me,  arid  this  fact 
was  an  appeal  to  my  vanity,  which  thus,  in  turn, 
became  a  minister  to  my  other  impulses.  My 
wife  was  beautiful  and  accomplished,  intelligent 
and  gentle — tender,  and  full  of  love  for  me — giv« 
ing  me  hourly  proofs,  not  only  that  she  regarded 
her  happiness  as  complete,  but  that  she  was  wo- 
manlv  solicitous ,  of  mine.  Had  all  the  circum- 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  105 

stances   of  my  marriage   suited — had   it   taken 
place  with  the  family  sanction,  and  had  her  con 
nections  been  such  as  I  could  have  wished  them, 
I  could  have  found  no  hotter  wife.     She,  by  her 
self,  was  all  that  I  could  have  desired  ;  and,  hurt 
as  I  had  been,  in  my  pride,  stung,  mortified  and 
harrasscd,  by  the   events  which    preceded  my 
nuptials,   my    honey-moon    was   yet  without  a 
cloud.     Bud  Halsey  kept  out  of  sight,  and,  in  our 
little  islet  and  cottage,  we  revelled  in  all  the  in 
toxicating  delight  of  a  first  passion  gratified.    We 
lay  in  the  sun  like  two  children,  thoughtless  of 
the  coming  on  of  night,  thoughtless  of  all  things 
but  the  dear  shady  solitude  which  love  had  peo 
pled  with  its  own  ministering  forms,  all  wooing 
and  beautiful,  all  sweet  and  musical,  all  sympa 
thetic  and  devoted  to  the  tender  mood  which 
prevailed  equally  over  the  souls  of  both.     Thus 
we   walked  and  rode — rambled   through   silent 
groves,  and,  sitting  on  the  trunks  of  fallen  trees, 
under  the  shade  of  their  mightier  descendants, 
wove  into  blossoms,  the  pretty,  petty  fancies  of 
a  youth,  that  might  well — at  that  period — have 
furnished  a  similitude  for  the  first  garden  experi 
ence  of  our  luckless  ancestors.      That  honey 
moon  was  certainly  an  Eden,  while  it  lasted,  to 
us  both.     But  it  was  not  to  last.     Helen,  how 
ever,  was  not  the  one  in  our  case  to  pluck  the 
forbidden  fruit.     The  error  was  mine.     I  have 
already  said,  or  shown,  that  I  was  of  an  impetuous, 
impatient  character,  not  disposed  to  forego  my  ob 
ject,  yet  soon  gratified,  and  restless  after  novelty 
5* 


106  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

With  such  a  person,  the  thing  once  attained  is 
apt  to  lose  its  attractions,  and  it  is  sufficient  to 
brush  away  the  gold  and  beauty  from  the  more 
delicate  forms  of  human  enjoyment,  that  we 
grasp  them  rudely  to  our  embrace.  The  first 
enthusiastic  burst  of  passion  over,  reflection  fol 
lowed,  and  then  recurred  to  me,  in  all  their  force, 
those  vexing  and  unanswerable  questions  which 
had  disturbed  mo  at  the  altar.  What  had  I  be- 
come  ?  An  outlaw  ?  No !  But  next  kin  to  one ! 
Certainly,  should  the  government  of  the  United 
States,  or  of  Mississippi,  ever  find  it  necessary  to 
send  a  sufficient  force  into  our  swamp  retreat, 
for  the  purpose  of  rooting  out  its  profligate  pos 
sessors,  I  must  share  their  obloquy  and  punish 
ment  ; — und,  even  if  this  fute  were  not  to  be  ap 
prehended,  was  the  doom  less  humiliating  and 
painful  to  which  I  was  now  apparently  fnted,  It 
wan  forbidden  mo  to  Icuvn  thu  wwump !  1  had 
not  even  the  rogue's  privilege,  but,  as  1  refused 
to  participate  in  'the  deeds  of  the  outlaws,  I  was 
regarded  as  one  not  only  not  to  be  trusted,  but 
one  to  hs  watched.  The  melancholy  prospect 
was  before  me  of  wasting  my  days  in  a  region  in 
which  1  WUB  a  prisoner — denied  even  the  indul 
gences  of  the  reprobates  around  me.  and  with  no 
hope  of  a  change  for  the  better,  unless  by  qualify* 
ing  myself  for  the  privileges  of  the  ruffian,  in  the 
commission  of  his  crimes.  There  was  no  outlet 
to  society  or  ambition.  I  could  neither  hope  for 
the  external  resources,  nor  for  the  distinctions  of 
the  world.  My  talents  were  denied  a  field  of  ao 


HELEN    HALSEY.  107 

tion.     I  was  to  rust  disused,  a  sword  in  the  scab 
bard,  a  shield  against  the  wall, — the  blood-steed 
chafing  in  the  stable,  the  mountain  bird  beating 
his  wings  against  the  bars  of  his  cage.     These 
reflections  naturally  followed,  when  the  delights 
of  my  new  condition  had  become  familiar.    Even 
love  is  a  food  that  can  satis f)  few  men.     It  is 
the  blanc-mange,  the  syllabubs,  the  comfits,  in  the 
great  feast  of  life.     But  we  must  beware  how  we 
would  make  a  meal  of  it.     It  is  to  be  taken  spar 
ingly  after  other  meats,  and  by  way  of  giving 
them  a  relish.     The  only  food  which  never  cloys 
the  human  spirit,  is  the  prosecution  of  our  daily 
tasks,  in  obedience  to  the  natural  tendencies  of 
our  intellect,  and  our  training.     These  tasks  per 
formed,  love  consoles  us  in  the  shade,  binds  up 
our  wounds,  soothes  us  in  our  prostration  and  de 
feat,  and  cheers  us  with  song  and  sentiment.    But 
as  we  neither  want  song  nor  consolation  always, 
so  we  may  suffer  love  to  wait  for  us  in  the  shade, 
while  we  follow  our  employments  in  the  sun. 
By  attending  to  this  wholesome  rule,  we  shall 
discover,  that,  while  the  burden  of  labor  dimin 
ishes,  love  undergoes  increase ;  and,  from  a  sickly, 
and  somewhat  aflected  damsel,  becomes  a  bright- 
eyed,  cheerful  matron,  who  rears  our  children 
with  fruitful  breakfast,  and  sees  that  dinner  is 
ready  for  us,  at  the  proper  hour,  when  we  return 
from  work.    But  I  did  not  philosophize  after  this 
fashion,  until  long  afterwards.     In  that  heyday 
of  my  hot  youth,  and  while  that  first — would  it 
were  the  last ! — struggle  was  going  on,  I  sirop?v 


108  HELLN    HA1.HBY. 

felt  and  deplored  the  ennui,  without  undertaking 
to  ascertain  what  were  its  true  sources.  Had 
my  reflective  powers  been  equal  to  this,  I  should 
probably  have  been  the  better  for  it.  But,  as  it 
was,  seemingly  remediless  as  the  condition  of 
things  appeared,  I  was  miserable,  without  the 
hope  of  redress.  The  ardency  of  my  love  lessen 
ed,  and,  instead  of  now  going  forth  ever  with 
Helen,  I  s,tolo  forth  more  frequently  alone.  I 
wandered  o(F  into  the  deepest  woods,  and  weari 
ed  ut  ovory  utep,  with  inyHuli'  and  everything 
around  me,  I  still  felt  how  much  more  wearisome 
it  was  to  return.  Still,  I  strove  to  hide  from  my 
wife,  tho  discontent  of  which  I  was  now  myself 
fully  conscious,  I  was  generous  enough,  and 
nmn  enough,  to  endeavor  to  conceal  from  her  tho 
signs  of  that  inquietude,  which  1  too  well  knew 
she  would  ascribe  to  my  lessening  attachment. 
In  her  presence  I  strove  to  be  cheerful,  to  smile, 
to  meet  her  eye  with  the  same  expression  of  love 
in  mine,  which  it  had  been  so  easy  a  task  with 
mo  to  exhibit  until  now,  Nor  WHH  it  ivlwayM  dif 
ficult  to  simulate  this  appearance,  She  was  so  real 
ly  beautiful,  with  eyes  of  such  dewy  brightness,  so 
gentle,  so  yielding  and  dependant,  that,  really,  I 
could  not  but  curse  the  capricious  nature  which 
hud  grown  diHsatiHficd,  so  soon,  with  a  creature 
BO  truly  excellent  and  charming,  Still,  sho  hung 
upon  my  arm,  yielded  herself  upon  my  bosom, 
sung  to  me  in  deep  embowering  woods,  and  by 
the  petty  chafing  streams  that  ran  through  our 


HELEN    1IALSEY.  109 

swamp  fastnesses,  and  still  I  thought  at  moments, 
that  I  ought  to  be,  and  was,  satisfied  and  happy. 
But  these  gleams  were  only  transient.  Love, 
alone,  has  no  means  of  continuing  its  excitements, 
after  conquest.  With  this  event  life  begins,  with 
all  its  solemn  duties.  Unless  these  duties  pro 
voke  the  fitting  performances — unless  the  man 
then  brings  into  exercise  all  the  energies  of  his 
intellectual  nature,  and  addresses  them  to  the 
business  which  seems  to  be  most  particularly 
called  for  by  the  tendency  of  his  morale — he  can 
not  well  be  said  to  live,  and  none  of  his  enjoy 
ments  will  be  lasting.  This  must  be  the  fate  of 
all  persons  brought  up  in  idleness.  Life,  with 
such,  must  be  a  sort  of  mill-service,  a  perpetual 
rounding  of  the  circle  in  a  beaten  track,  which, 
as  it  demands  no  mental  exercise,  furnishes  no 
mental  supply,  keeps  up  no  mental  life,  and  leaves 
the  intellectual  nature  as  thoroughly  blind  as 
horses  are  said  to  become,  habituated  to  the  same 
motive  service  which  has  afforded  us  the  com 
parison  above.  But  a  truce  to  these  reflections, 
which  I  did  not  then  make.  My  wife  began  to 
discern  the  change  in  me.  What  change  is  there, 
however  slight,  in  the  man  she  loves,  which  the 
woman  will  not  discern  ?  I  soon  saw  that  she 
felt  the  change.  Perhaps,  it  was  no  small  proof 
of  my  own  continued  attachment,  that  I  could  so 
soon  discern  that  she  had  made  the  discovery. 
Of  course  I  did  my  best  to  lessen  this  impression. 
I  renewed  my  efforts  to  appear  happy — we  re- 


110  HELEN    BALSET 

sumed  our  walk's  together — followed  the  same 
streams,  sat  beneath  the  same  shade, — but  we 
both  felt  that  it  was  now  a  task  to  pursue  the 
same  life,  which  was  once  a  pleasure  only.  The 
green  and  the  freshness  seemed  to  me  to  have 
gone  from  life — the  glory  and  the  gladness — we 
felt  the  misery  which  the  departure  had  occasion 
ed,  but  knew  not,  in  our  ignorance  of  heart  and 
life,  where  to  look  for  the  remedy.  It  was  soon 
very  evident  to  me,  that  her  father  beheld  the 
change.  He  looked  more  gravely  when  we  met, 
• — more  sadly — but  without  severity.  On  the 
contrary,  his  endeavors  to  console  and  to  con 
ciliate  me  were  redoubled  ;  and  when  in  his  so 
ciety,  I  generally  found  myself  more  cheerful,  and 
if  not  more  reconciled  to  my  imprisonment,  at 
least  more  easily  inclined,  for  the  moment,  to  dis 
miss  it  from  my  thoughts.  That  he  ascribed  my 
demeanor  to  any  change  in  my  regards  for  his 
daughter,  I  did  not  imagine.  He  knew  me  better 
than  I  did  myself.  My  own  conscience  reproach 
ed  me  with  such  a  change.  He,  more  wisely, 
ascribed  it  all  to  the  natural  impatience  of  my 
mind,  under  the  novel  restraints  to  which  it  was 
subjected — restraints,  which  not  only  deprived 
me  all  opportunity  for  its  exercise,  but  denied  me 
to  see  those  friends  and  connections,  in  whom  I 
was  naturally  so  deeply  interested.  As  for  poor 
Helen,  she  was  still  ?o  loving,  so  considerate,  so 
desirous  to  win  me  to  pleasure,  to  see  me  happy 
»— and  failing, — so  sad.— that,  when  not  thinking 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  Ill 

absolutely  and  only  of  myself,  my  heart  smote 
me  for  its  coldness  to  her.  Coldness  shall  I  call 
it?  No!  it  was  not  coldness.  I  had  not  then 
any  idea  that  any  woman  could  be  half  so  dear 
to  me  as  she  was,  even  in  those  moments  when 
I  felt  least  satisfied.  But  she  was  not  to  know 
this.  My  discontent  increased,  and  at  length 
settled  down  into  positive  clouds  and  gloom.  I 
no  longer  made  any  effort  to  conceal  it,  and  it 
was  some  consolation  to  me  that  my  wife,  with  a 
prudence  which  is  seldom  exercised  by  wives, 
never  once  called  upon  mo  to  account  for  it. 
She  was  content  to  do  her  best  to  cheer  me,  to 
prove  that  her  love  for  mo  had  not  lessened,  and 
she  left  to  the  delicate  unpremeditated  attentions 
of  a  fond  heart,  and  tender  solicitude,  to  heal 
those  hurts,  which  any  attempt  to  probe  might 
only  have  rendered  worse. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MEANWHILE,  I  had  become  somewhat  intimate 
with  Mr.  Mowbray,  the  reverend  gentleman  by 
whom  I  had  been  married.  I  had  met  him  in 
some  of  my  rambles,  and  as  he  was  a  person  of 
invincible  self-esteem,  he  had  contrived  to  keep 
with  me,  in  spite  of  the  evident  coolness  which  I 


HELEN   HALBEY. 

manifested  towards  him.    His  adroitness  finally 
broke  down  my  barriers  of  reserve,  and  I  listened 
to  him,  after  awhile,  with  tolerable  patience,— the 
unfavorable  impressions  of  my  mind  gradually 
giving  way,  the  more  I  was  brought  in  contact 
with  the  offensive  object.     This  is  one  of  the  most 
fruitful  dangers  which  beset  young  men.     1  had 
reason  afterwards  to  believe  that  Bud  Halsey  had 
instructed  Mowbray  to  throw  himself  in  my  way, 
with  the  view  to  bringing  me  round  to  his  pur 
poses.    This  young  man  spoke  with  a  vivacity 
which  was  very  much  akin  to  wit.    He  was 
sprightly,  forcible  and  pungent  in  his  remarks, 
frequently  novel  and  always  audacious.     That  ho 
was  thoroughly  unprincipled,  need  not  be  said, 
when  it  is  remembered  what  life  he  led  and  what 
principles  he  professed  to  teach.    Perhaps,  there 
is  no  hypocrisy  so  complete  and  lamentable,  as 
that  of  the  professor  of  religion,  having  the  care 
of  others,  yet  daily,  and  daringly,  indulging  in  the 
most  unscrupulous  practices  of  sin. 

"  You  are  cool  to  me,"  he  said  one  day  when  I 
was  more  than  usually  depressed  by  the  circum 
stances  of  my  situation.  He  had  joined  me  when 
I  least  looked  for,  and  least  wished,  any  such 
companionship. 

"Why  should  we  not  be  friends f"  he  con 
tinued,  without  giving  me  time  to  answer.  "Here 
we  are,  both  of  us  young  fellows,  neither  want 
ing  in  stuff  for  conversation,  why  should  we  not  be 
more  frequently  together  ?  As  we  have  a  little 


HELEN    I1AL8EY.  113 

world  of  our  own  here,  why  should  we  not  make 
the  most  of  it  ?" 

"You  may — you   should,"   was  my  answer. 
"  But  you  forget,  it  is  your  world,  not  mine." 
"  Make  it  yours — why  not  1"  „ 
44  Thank  you,  but  I  have  no  taste  for  cutting 
throats  or  purses." 

•*  Pshaw !   I   do   not   mean   that.     There   are 
enough  to  do  that  without  requiring  either  you  or 
me.     My  taste  as  little  inclines  to  it  as  yours." 
"  Why  then  arc  you  here  ? " 
•*  A  truant  disposition — like  your  own,  perhaps. 
But  now  that  \ve  are  both  here,  whether  from 
choice  or  necessity,  I  am  for  making  the  most  of 
the  situation.     Why  should  not  you  ?     Why,  for 
example,  should  you  mope  alone  in  these  woods, 
when  you  might  have  company?" 

"  Have  I  not  ?     Are  you  not  with  me  ?w 
"  Yes  ;    but  I  verily  believe  that  you  would 
rather  my  room  than  my  company." 

"  You  could  scarcely  believe  this,  yet  continue 
to  give  it  me." 

"  You  forget  my  profession !"  he   answered, 
with  a  laugh.     ".My  religion  compels  me  to  seek  . 
the  unhappy — my  humility  prevents  me  from,1 
heeding  their  rebuffs.     I  am  for  saving  you,  my  i 
friend,  in  your   own    spite, — for  consoling  you 
when,  perhaps,  you  would  prefer  to  drain  the 
cup    of  bitterness  to  the  dregs,  through  sheer  ^ 
obstinacy, — and  for  giving  you  my  good  com- 


H4  HELEN    RAL8ET. 

pany,  always,  when  you  are  most  oppressed  with 
your  own." 

"  Do  you  not  incur  some  risk  in  this  liberality? 
Intrusion  does  not  always  get  off  with  a  simple 
rebuff."  . 

"  Ah  !  you  must  not  suppose  I  carry  my  re 
ligion  to  excess.  I  do  not  tell  you  that  I  turn  the 
other  cheek  that  it  may  be  smitten  also.  I  have 
not  yet  reached  .that  point  of  patience  and  for- 
bearancei  when  it  is  agreeable  to  set  up  for  a 
martyr.  I  have  still  a  taste  of  the  old  leaven  in 
me,  and  can  lay  on  as  well  as  my  neighbor.  But 
there  need  be  no  quarrel  between  us.  Time 
sometimes  hangs  heavily  on  my  hands  here,  as  it 
evid'ently  does  on  yours.  If  we  were  to  meet 
oftener,  it  might  weigh  more  lightly  upon  both. 
I  have  usually  been  considered  a  good  fellow  as 
a  companion,  and  you  seem  a  lad  of  mettle.  You 
have  sense  and  spirit.  Let  us  see  if  we  cannot 
help  each  other  through  the  swamp— no  bad 
figure  for  representing  the  dull  days  in  this  quar 
ter.  Come,  now,  let  mj  be  your  guide  for  the 
next  half  hour,  and  I  will  show  you  some  retreats 
here  which,  I  suspect,  you  have  never  seen  be 
fore.  What  say  you  ?" 

I  suffered  him  to  lead  me  on.  Indeed,  I  was 
now  not  only  indifferent  to  the  route  which  I 
should  take,  but  somewhat  regardless  of  ,the 
character  of  my  companion.  The  last  few  weeks 
had  made  me  tolerably  reckless,  and  setting 
aside  some  of  my  scruples  as  I  proceeded  with 
him,  I  abruptly  asked  him  for  his  history.  1  was 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  115 

anxious  to  get  some  insight  into  a  character  which 
seemed  so  curiously  compounded. 

"  My  history  !"  he  answered.  "  You  shall  have 
it  It  will  scarcely  interest  you,  but  will  do  you 
good.  You  smile  ?" 

"Yes! — why  should  you  care  whether  it  will 
do  me  good  or  not  ?" 

"  You  mistake  me  somewhat.  I  have  no  wish 
to  do  you  harm." 

"  What !  not  to  involve  me  in  your  meshes- 
make  me  an  outlaw  like  yourself?" 

"  Pshaw,  no  !  I  care  for  this  neither  one  way 
nor  the  other.  My  fault,  indeed,  is  want  of  sym- 
palhyjwith.  my  race." 

"  Why  do  you  wish  society,  then — companion 
ship—why  seek  mine?" 

"  Simply  because  I  am  selfish.  Selfishness 
makes  good  companionship.  I  seek  you  for  my 
self — for  my  own  enjoyment,  not  yours  ; — though 
I  shall  have  no  sort  of  objection  that  you  should 
gain  by  the  communion.  But,  you  will  know  me 
better  when  you  have  heard  my  story.  Here, 
we  are  secure.  We  have  quite  a  pleasant  shade. 
The  trees  arch  here  in  cathedral  fashion.  The 
sun  scarcely  penetrates,  except  in  little  droplets 
of  light,  and  the  effect  is  very  much  such  as  we 
should  suppose  it  would  produce  through  the 
stained  windows  of  a  gothic  abbey.  The  breeze 
comes  up  very  pleasantly  from  that  water.  Your 
wanderings  have  brought  you  here  before." 

The  spot  was  very  beautiful,  with  an  interest 
derived  entirely  from  the  foliage,  and  the  mixed 


116  HKLEN    IIALtfEY. 

effect  of  shadow  rind  subdued  sunlight*  There 
was  no  inequality  in  the  landscape.  The  ground 
was  perfectly  level,  with  a  slight  slope  to  the 
water's  edge.  The  creek  wound  semi-circularly 
'about  us,  and  along  the  opposite  edges  was  lined 
with  a  thick  fringe  of  canes,  from  whence  shot 
np  the  gigantic  spire  of  cotton- wood  tree  or  pine* 
We  sat  down  upon  the  shaft  of  a  fallen  tree,  and, 
after  a  few  preliminaries,  my  companion  began 
his  story  as  follows : 


You  see  in  me  on  instance  of  the  injurious 
effects  of  endeavoring  to  force  goodness  into  the 
heart  by  a  sort  of  hot-house  process.  Unless  by 
miracle,  b)}  the  direct  intervention  of  Deity  him- 
Bel!',  you  cannot  make  a  man  a  saint  before  his 
_time,  There  must  be  some  long  preliminary 
courses,  There  must  be  trials  and  preparations, 
by  which  to  subdue  stubborn  tendencies,  irregu 
lar  passions,  and  a  dogged,  inflexible  will.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  set  before  you  the  sort  of  training 
which  should  be  employed  for  this  purpose.  It 
is  enough  that  I  had  none  of  it ;  and,  with  just 
enough  of  prudence — cunning,  perhaps,  would  be 
the  proper  word — I  suffered  myself  to  be  con 
verted  into  an  apostle,  before  I  had  ever  thought 
to  overcome  the  natural  desire  which  every  man 
is  supposed  to  have  to  be  a  sinner.  I  was  born 
of  good  family,  in  one  of  the  oldest  of  our  north 
ern  cities.  I  need  scarcely  tell  you  that  the 
name  I  bear,  is  not  the  one  to  whtch  I  was  born. 


HELEN    HAL3EY.  1J7 

I  was  tenderly  nurtured  and  well-educated.  My 
father  was  not  only  distinguished  in  the  social, 
but  in  the  intellectual  world.  He  was  a  man  of 
profound  scientific  and  literary  acquirements,— 
highly  and  equally  esteemed  for  his  moral  virtues 
and  mental  superiority.  It  was,  perhaps,  my 
misfortune  in  particular  that  he  died,  just  at  that 
period  when,  emerging  from  boyhood  into  youth, 
my  training  required  the  firm  hand  and  the  calm 
thought  of  experienced  wisdom.  My  boyhood 
gave  signs  of  intellectual  promise.  My  youth 
had  other  developments.  I  was  wild  and  vicious, 
fuIT  of  blood  and  passions — eager  in  the  attain 
ment  of  my  object,  and  not  over-scrupulous — 
speaking-within  certain  limits— of  the  process  by 
which  this  was  to  be  done.  But  the  tenderness 
of  relatives,  and  the  sympathies  of  friends,  kindly 
charged  all  these  developments  to  the  exuber 
ance  of  youth.  I  was  simply  sowing  those  wiid- 
oats,  which,  I  am  disposed  to  think,  must  be  sown 
by  all  men,  sooner  or  later,  at  some  period  in 
their  lives.  The  misfortune  is,  that,  in  my  case, 
sufficient  time  was  not  allowed  me  to  sow  my 
tares,  when  I  was  required  to  enter  upon  another 
sort  of  harvest.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered 
at  if  the  tares  and  wheat  came  up  pretty  equally 
together. 

Our  family  was  reduced  in  fortune  and  straiten 
ed  after  my  father's  death,  to  such  a  degree,  that 
it  became  necessary — painful  necessity ! — that 
hereafter  the  sons  should  sow  that  they  might 


118  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

V 

reap.  We  were  all  required  to  work  for  our 
biead,  and  the  question  was,  in  what  way  we 
should  encounter  a  necessity  so  humiliating,  with 
out  losing  the  rank  and  consideration  of  gentle 
men.  This  inquiry,  of  course,  involved  a  farther 
necessity,  not  only  of  finding  a  proper  employ 
ment,  but  one  neither  mechanical  nor  laborious- 
one  that,  would  neither  soil  the  hands  nor  lessen 
the  leisure.  Two  of  my  brothers  were  already 
lawyers,  one  was  a  physician,  and  as  both  these 
professions  were  crowded,  it  was  unanimously 
concluded  among  my  friends  and  relatives,  that  I 
was  to  be  a  parson.  Not  that  I  had  shewn  any 
of  those  moral  qualities,  which  would  naturally 
incline  a  devout  parent  to  see  a  future  saint  in 
the  son.  I  was  neither  humble  in  spiritt  forbear 
ing  in  my  anger,  nor  gentle  in  my  deportment. 
I  had  nothing  devotional  about  me.  I  had  the 
most  indomitable  will, — I  had  the  most  fierce, 
selfish  and  passionate  desires,  I  had  no  single 
requisite  for  the  business  of  the  pulpit,  but  such 
as  belonged  to  the  simple  intellect.  As  I  do  not 
scruple  to  declare  my  moral  deficiencies,  so  1  do 
not  hesitate  to  avow  my  intellectual  adequacy  to 
the  work  before  me.  I  was  warm,  animated, 
fluent, — intense,  in  my  earnestness,  to  the  last  de 
gree,  and,  in  the  employment  of  illustration  and 
figure,  equally  forcible  and  ready.  I  was  des 
tined,  so  every  body  said, — regarding  nothing  but 
my  mental  endowments — to  figure  as  a  new 
Boanerges  in  the  church. 


HELEN    HALSEY.  110 

But,  at  first,  I  was  just  as  unwilling  as  I  was 
unprepared,  to  enter  upon  a  duty  for  '  which  my 
mind  had  no  sympathy.     If  I  inclined  to  anything 
in  particular,  it  was  to  the  law.     To  the  forum 
I  looked  as  to  the  scene  of  my  future  triumphs — 
as  to  the  field  of  my  future  eminence  and  fame. 
But  I  was  made  to  see  with  the  eyes  of  others. 
I  was  shewn  the  crowded  state  of  the  bar.     I 
was  shewn  the  struggling  and  always  half  dis 
tressed  situation  of  my  brothers,  neither  of  whom 
had,  as  yet,  earned  the  salt  for  his  porridge.  They 
were  still  an  incumbrance  on  the  very  little  pro 
perty  which  the  misfortunes  of  the  family  had 
spared  to  my  mother.     Kpbody  seemed  to  re 
gard  the  moral  requisites  of  the  Churchman,  as 
at  all  necessary.     Nothing,  at  least,  was  said  on 
this  part  of  the  subject.     It  was  chosen  for  me  as 
a  handicraft — a  trade — by  which  I  was  to  jump 
into  a  snug  living,  and  have  the  farther  privilege 
of  choosing,  as  my  own  peculiar  property,  one  of 
the   richest  ewes  of  my  flock.     These   results 
were  continually  spoken  of,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
by  all  around  me.     They  formed  a  familiar  topic 
with  the  community.     Religion  had  become  so 
much  of  a  profession,  among  laity  and  clergy, 
that  the  trading  results  were  habitually  looked 
to,  by  both  parties,  as  a  legitimate  subject  of  con 
sideration.    In  old  communities,  which  have  been, 
from  immemorial  time,  distinguished  for  high  so 
cial  tone,  the  maintenance  of  social  appearances 
becomes,  finally,  the  leading  object  with  all  par- 


120  HELEN    HALtiKY. 

ties?  and  all  th'at  is  then  requUite with  the  indi 
vidual  is,  that  he  should  respect  his  own  cloth. 
It  does  not  matter  that  he  should  not  deserve  to 
wear  it.    The  only  important  particular  is,  that 
he  should  wear  it  with  decency.     The  rule  holds 
with  religion  as  with  medicine  or  law — it  is  rank 
ed  with  these  as  an  ordinary  means  of  employ 
ment,  and  by  many,  as  one  of  the  most  inferior. 
Indeed,!  one  of  my  objections  to  adopting  this  pro 
fession,  arose  from  hearing  it  so  frequently  spoken 
of  as  one  that  required  little  or  no  ability.     The 
common  saying  among  us,  was,  'when  a  fellow 
is  too  stupid  to  be  lawyer  or  doctor,  you  must 
make  him  a  parson.'     There  was  room  for  the 
sarcasm.    We  had  many  boobies  in  the  pulpit. 
There   was  little   eloquence  and  less  thought. 
Some  of  our  divines  were  able  men,  but  they  had 
grown  tired  of  warring  against  those  feminine 
tastes  in  the  audience,  which  called  for  little  more 
than  common-places  and  declamation.     Women, 
of  whom  most  of  our  American  audiences  are 
composed,  do  no  little  towards  the  degradation 
of  the   clergy.     It  requires   but  little  skill  and 
management  among  them,  to  win  the  reputation 
of  great  piety;  and  still  less  ability,  to  secure 
that  of  eloquence  and  talent.     I  have  frequent 
ly  amused   myself,  during  my  brief  career    in 
the  pulpit,  in  preaching  nonsense-sermons,  that 
were  simply  complicate  and  high-sounding,  lard* 
ed  at  frequent  intervals,  with  biblical  phrases, 
with  which  they  were  commonly  acquainted.     1 


HELEN    HALSEY.  12 

have  observed  that,  on  such  occasions,  my  preach 
ing  always  gave  the  most  satisfaction.  I  have 
always  been  applauded  for  these  sermons,  and 
more  than  once  called  upon  to  print  them, — but 
I  too  well  knew  that  what  would  be  tolerated  in 
the  pulpit,  would  never  pass  tho  gauntlet  of  the 
press, — though,  towards  the  close  of  my  career, 
— when  I  was  willing  to  break  with  my  congre 
gation,  1  was  more  than  half  temjrted  to  comply 
with  their  wishes,  and  put  forth  a  volume  to  show 
how  easily  and  admirably  they  had  been  gulled. 
But  I  anticipate. 

It  was  with  considerable  reluctance  that  I  was 
brought  to  regard  the  wishes  of  my  friends  and 
family  with  favor.  It  was  only  when  it  became 
evident  that  this  was  the  only  way  in  which  I 
could  get  my  bread,  and  got  it  buttered  too,  that 
I  consented.  Promises,  assurances  the  most  pos 
itive,  were  held  out  to  rne,  not  only  of  a  church, 
but  of  a  wife,  both  of  them  tho  most  elegant  and 
eligible  in  every  point  of  view.  Then  there  was 
the  influence,  the  authority,  which  the  cloth  exer 
cised; — and,— this  was  my  own  thought,  and 
that  which  rendered  the  suggestions  of  my  friends 
more  palatable — then  there  was  the  distinction, 
the  eminence  to  be  attained  by  the  pressing,  per* 
severing  and  highly  endowed  intellect.  Won  by 
all  these  considerations,  I  became  a  student  in 
divinity,  put  on  the  grave  suit  and  demeanor,  and 
went  to  my  studies  with  the  resolution  not  to 
forego  the  cakes  and  ale,  if  they  were  to  be  had 


122  HELEN  HAL8EY. 

at  the  expense  Jraly  of  a  little  hypocrisy.    My 
character  was  one  of  great  energy,  and  might 
have  been  of  great  power,  had  it  been  less  capri* 
clous.    As  it  was,  1  devoted  myself  to  study  with 
that  earnestness  which  distinguished  me  in  the 
prosecution  of  all  my  plans.    I  was  late  and  early 
at  my  studios.    Ambitious,  to  a  very  high  degree, 
the  goal  immediately  before  me  was  one  of  human 
distinction.    My  industry  and  zeal  became  the 
popular  theme  in  our  little  world.     Old  men 
looked  upon  me  with  wonder— old  women  with  ad 
miration.    I  was  sought  by  the  grave  and  the  seni 
ors  of  both  sexes.     I  listened  with  reverence,  arid 
when  I  spoke,  dealt  in  sententious  apothegms.    1 
practiced  my  part  with  a  degree  of  skill,  which, 
perhaps,  was  only  remarkable  for  the  consistency 
which  my  character  displayed,  in  spite  of  my 
passions  and  caprices,  during  the  tedious  period 
of  my  noviciate.    I  was  successful,  and  the  time 
arrived  when  I  should  take  orders  and  be  admit* 
ted  to  the  priesthood.    The  ceremony  you  have 
witnessed.     I  need  not  describe  it.     It  is  enough 
for  me  to  say,  that,  solemn  as  it  is,  terrible  as  is 
the  trust  which  the  neophyte   undertakes,  and 
awful    as    appear  the  responsibilities   accruing 
from  his  obligations,  my  mind  strove  in  vain  to 
.concentrate  its  thoughts  Upon  the  proceedings. 
My  heart  had  nothing  to  do  with  them.     It  was 
communing  apart  with  its  own  vanities— yearn 
ing  with  its  merely  human  passions,  and  canvass- 
i  ing,  at  every  interval,  the  hopes,  and  fears,  and 


HELEN    HALSEV.      „  123 

fancies  which  occupy  the  spirit  of  the  worlding. 
But  a  little  distance  from  me   stood  a  maiden 
whom  my  eyes  had  long  singled  out  as  the  object 
of  their  desires,     I  saw  her  not  then,  but  I  felt  that 
she  was  there.     Pure  and  meek,  she  had  long 
before  won  the  affections  of  one  who  was  neither 
pure  nor  meek.  Unknown  to  herself,  I  had  already 
made  JL  conquest  of  her.     That  I  knew.     I  was  no 
small  Judge  of  the  female  heart.  I  had  fathomed  the 
intricacies  of  hers,  and  resolving  that  she  should 
be  my  prize,  I  had  adapted  my  deportment  to 
those  tastes  which,  I  felt  assured,  distinguished  her 
nature ;  and,  even  at  that  moment  when  devoting 
myself,  mind  and  spirit,  irrevocably  to  God  and 
the  Redeemer,  I  thought  of  neither,  except  vague 
ly,  uncertainly,  and  without  being  at  all  touched 
by  the  profound  de'pth  of  the  obligation  waich  my 
lips  had  sworn,     I* thought  only  of  the  mortal 
beauty  whose  spirit  seemed  effused  about  me, — 
whose  presence  I  felt  was  near,— whose  eyes,  I 
well  knew,  watched  every  step  in  the  progress 
of  the  ceremony,  with  the  intense  interest  of  the 
purest  human  love.     I  was  ordained — I  had  at 
tained  one  of  the  objects  of  my  hypocritical  en 
deavor,  and  the  struggle  now  was  for  the  rest. 
Did  I  attain  them  ?     Did  I  doubt  of  their  attain 
ment  ?     You  shall  hear ! 

Yet,  do  not  misunderstand  me.  If  you  suppose 
that  I  did  not  strive  after  religion,  when  I  had 
once  undertaken  the  study,  you  will  do  me  in 
justice.  It  may  be  that  I  did  not  strive  enough,— 


124  HELEN   HALBET. 

with  all  my  heart,  with  all  my  mind,  and  with  all 
my  strength,  as  we  are  required— but  I  certainly 
did  not  set  out  to  persevere  in  a  merely  cold  sys 
tem  of  hypocrisy.  I  was  not  unwilling  to  become 
what  I  wished  to  profess.  I  strove,  I  studied,  I 
thought,  I  nsked.  It  is  not  improbable  thut  in 
study,  thought  and  inquiry,  I  sometimes  forgot 
prayer,  I  did  not  pray  enough.  I  never  ac 
quired  the  first  most  necessary  frame  of  mind.  I 
had  no  humility,  and  this  want, — had  not  my 
congregation  been  wilfully,  and  beyond  redemp 
tion,  blind, — must  have  betrayed  me  long  before 
I  wilfully  betrayed  myself.  I  was  myself  de 
ceived.  I  sometimes  fancied  that  my  condition 
of  mind  was  good — was  what  it  should  be.  This 
was  during  my  noviciate.  I  was  never  deceived 
in  this  manner  after  my  assumption  of  the  duties 
of  the  priesthood*  No !  no  !  I  knew  myself  by 
this  time,  and  the  struggle  thence  was  simply  to 
keep  the  real  nature  from  any  and  every  exhibi 
tion  inconsistent  with  that  which  I  had  put  on. 
But  of  this  hereafter.  - 

My  friends  kept  their  promises.  They  pro 
cured  me  a  church,  and  noble  congregation.  I 
was  at  once  installed  into  a  good  living,  and,  very 
soon  after,  chose,  from  among  my  flock,  the  fair 
and  truly  good  creature,  upon  whom,  so  long  a 
season,  my  eyes  had  been  set.  She  did  not,  with 
feminine  subtlety,  endeavor  to  hide  from  me  the 
joy  she  felt  when  I  declared  my  passion  for  her. 
*  She  jvas  too,  too  happy >  Such  were  the  words 


HELEN    HALSEY.  125 

muttered  in  my  bosom,  as  she  yielded  herself  to 
my  embrace.     We  were  married,  and  with  her 
self  she  brought  me  a  handsome  property.     Was 
J  satisfied  ?     Was  I  happy  ?     No  !     I  had  reaped 
the  reward  of  my  toils, — I   had  gained  all  the 
objects  which  had  been  proposed  to  me,  when  I 
first  commenced  my  career  of  hypocrisy.     Sta 
tion,  fortune,  fame  ! — for  I  had  grown  famous  in 
our  little  world — but,  I  did  not  deceive  myself  1 
I  was  not  only  not  happy,  but  I  was  ill  at  ease. 
The  constraint  upon  my  nature  was  a  bondage 
which  I   yearned  to  throw  off,     I  was  like  the 
captive  in  the  toils  !     True,  I  was  surrounded  by 
plenty- — beauty  was  in  my  arms — fortune  at  my 
feet — crowds  of  admirers  followed  in  my  steps — 
troops  of  friends  gathered  at.  my  bidding — my 
voice  could  still  or  rouse  the  multitude — my  name 
was  honored  wherever  spoken — but  /  lived  a  He  I 
— and  every  moment  of  breath  and  being  was  a* 
pang.     I  do  not  say  that  my  moral  sense  revolted 
at  this  condition.     No !    it  was  my  blood,  my 
passions,  which,  restra;ned,  in  order  to  the  ac 
quisition  of  an  object,  threatened  momently   to 
revenge  themselves  for  the  unnatural  and  uncon 
genial  bondage  into  which  my  will  had  forced 
them. 

Meanwhile,  had  the  theatre  of  my  mind  been 
«uch  as  it  could  have  chosen,  I  should  have  been 
content.  My  mind  was  fully  exercised.  In  the 
habit  of  intensifying  on  every  subject,  I  was 
necessarily  a  most  enthusiastic  preacher.  Never 


120  HELEN    RAL8EY* 

was  the  vehement  of  true  zeal  and  genuine  piety 
more  life-like  than  mine.     They  attributed  this 
vehemence  to  my  zeal  and  piety,  when  it  was 
only  the  natural  working  of  my  blood.    In  a  dis 
putation  in  behalf  of  atheism,  I  should  have  been 
equally  vehement.    It  was  the  characteristic  of 
my  temperament.    But  nobody  inquired  into  this. 
It  was  enough  that  I  kept  them  from  sleeping  ;— 
that,  all  animation  myself,  I  enlivened  them.    Of 
course,  nobody  who  goes  to  church  applies  to 
himself  the  denunciations  of  the  preacher.     The 
simple  fact  of  church-going  seems  sufficiently  to 
satisfy  the  ordinary  mind ;  and  people  fancy  they 
are  in  a  very  comfortable  sort  of  trim  for  heaven 
when  they  yield  audible  responses  to  tha  preach 
er,  and  never  forget  to  make  their  genuflexions 
at  the  appropriate  moment.     I  saw  and  under 
stood  all  this,  and  was  by  no  means  unsparing  of 
•the  scourge.    I  laid  it  on  with  heavy  hand,  and, 
assured  in  my  own  heart  of  my  own  miserable 
hypocrisy,  this  conviction  furnished  an  additional 
reason  why  I  should  cry  aloud,  and  spare  not,  in 
dealing  with  the  sinfulncss  of  others.     In  this 
sort  of  excitement  I  lived — I  drew  my  breath. 
My  blood  demanded  excitements,  and,  dammed 
Up  in  its  natural  tendencies,  was  forced  to  find 
outlet  and  utterance  through  other  avenues^  Was 
there  a  controversy  with  another  sect  or  church, 
I  headed  it ; — was  there  a  new  mission  to  be 
established,  I  counselled  it,  urged  it,  and  com* 
polled  it*     Furious  in  my  struggles,  I  made  a 


HELEN    UAL8EY.  127 

battle  field  wherever  I  came,  and  while  all  were 
delighted  and  wondering  at  my  zeal  in  the  cause 
of  the  Redeemer,  I  brought  nothing  but  religious 
uproar,  and  confusion,  and  disputation  wherever  I 
appeared. 

Had  my  congregation  been  only  half-witted, 
— had  they  but  bestowed  upon  the  subject  but 
half  the  thought  which  the  meanest  of  them  gave 
to  his  ordinary  worldly  concern's — they  must  have 
more  than  suspected   my  sincerity.     The  very 
excess  of  my  fervor,  must  have  made  them  doubt 
its  purity  and  source.     But  a  fow  years  before — 
not  five, — I  had  been  notoriously  a  very  vicious  • 
youth — noted  for  excesses,  and  recognizing,  with 
difficulty,  any  restraint.    On  a  sudden,  the  change 
had  been  effected.     Now,  it  is  not  denied  that 
this  change  of  heart,  can  be  effected  by  the  ruling 
powers  of  Providence,  at  any  moment, — in  a  mc- 
ment, — in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye; — but  this  change 
of  heart,  must  subdue  the  heart, — must  teach  pa 
tience,  humility,  and  moderation.     The  individual 
must  remember,  with  horror,  his  own  past  of 
fences,  and  must,  in  fear  and  trembling,  approach, 
those  of  others.     If  such  a  change  produces  any 
external  results  at  all,  it  must  be  in  this  very  par 
ticular.    It  must  lead  to  great  toleration.    Mercy, 
not  denunciation,  will   be  the  language  of  the 
newly  reformed — humility,  not  arrogance, — pa 
tience,  not  imperiousness.    There  was  no  such 
show  in  me.    On  the  contrary,  never  did  self-ap 
pointed  legate,  more  freely  use  God's  thunder. 


128  HELEN    HAL8C*. 

The  Pope  was  noi  more  imperious,  when,  setting 
his  feet  upon  the  necks  of  princes,  he  insisted 
that  the  act  was  done  in  his  two-fold  character, 
of  man  and  father,— thun  was  I  in  dealing  with 
those  very  faults  and  vices  in  others,  in  which, 
but  a  little  while  before,  I  had  notoriously  indulg 
ed  myself.  But  I  had  no  help.  My  passionate 
and  imperious  nature  was  resolute  to  speak  out, 
and  this  was  the  only  way  in  which  it  could  ex 
ercise  itself,  consistently  with  the  part  which  1 
was  now  compelled  to  play,  to  tha  mockery  of 
Goxl  and  man  alike. 

But  there  was  a  change  at  hand.     In  the  midst 
of  my  successes— when  I  stood  in  the  regards  of 
the  community  as  little  less  thnn  u  God— when 
thouKtimU  followed,  nnd,  without  knowing  or  sus 
pecting  it,  hundred*  of  poor  women  worshipped 
me— when  my  eloquence  was  most  brilliant,  my 
exhortations  most  urgent,  my  severities  and  re 
bukes  most  pungent,  nnd  excoriating— my  secret 
was  discovered.     It  could  not  be  concealed  from 
one  who  hud  been  among  the  firat  to  follow— to 
worship  me  and  to  love — my  wife!     Without 
being  a  philosopher,  her  moral  and  religious  in 
stincts  were  true; — there  are  religious  instincts  in 
every  nature,  to  be  brought  out  by  education;— 
to  her  my  secret  was  betrayed  on  numerous  oc 
casions.      Seeing   me   at    home-?— in  dlsabille— • 
without  those  restraints  of  decorum  in  which  I 
garbed  myselt  lor  the  encounter  with  others,  she 
soon  huvl  sufficient  proof  that  I  was  no  saint* 


HELEN    IIALBE7.  129 

My  passions,  my  temper, — my  real  nature — was 
not  to  be  hid  from  her,  and  when  the  applauses 
of  others  filled  her  ears — when  her  friends  eulo 
gized  my  virtues,  and  congratulated  her  on  her 
good  fortune,  in  the  possession  of  such  a  saint, — 
she  only  wept.  She  was  no  more  to  be  flatter 
ed  into  happiness,  than  she  was  to  be  deceived 
by  externals.  She  could  not  conceal  her  conric- 
tions  and  fecjings  from  me.  Long  did  she  strive 
to  do  so,  but  her  Christian  spirit  triumphed.  She 
revealed  to  me  the  extent  of  her  discoveries,  her 
fears,  her  wretchedness, — she  implored  me  to  re 
pent  in  sincerity,  or,  at  least,  to  forbear  the  pro 
fession  which  could  only  be  dishonored  by  my 
hypocrisy.  She  did  not  use  this  language,  but 
this  was  the  substance  of 'what  she  said.  She 
employed  the  gentlest  forms  of  speech,  such  as 
were  dictated  by  a  still  devoted  heart  and  an  ' 
ardent  passion.  But  I  flung  her  from  me.  She 
had  doubly  offended  me,  as  she  had  discovered 
my  secret,  and,  in  doing  so,  had  shewn  me  that 
the  love  which  she  bore  for  me,  did  not  amount 
to  the  adoration  which  alone  I  sought.  My  de 
sires  were  of  that  imperious  sort,  that  would  ad 
mit  of  nothing  qualifying  in  the  homage  which  I 
received.  The  whole  heart  for  me,  or  none, — 
and  it  must  be  a  thoroughly  confiding  heart,  a 
perfect  faith,  never  questioning,  always  submit 
ting,  always  assured — with  the  old-time  loyalty  of 
the  serf — that  the  king  could  do  no  wrong.  I 

flung  her  from  me, — it  was  the  Sabbath,— and* 
6* 


180  HELEN    HALBET. 

proceeding  to  my,  pulpit,  I  made  the  high  ceilings 
echo  again  with  the  intensity  of  my  exhortations. 
I  was  never  more  eloquent.  I  was  stung,  pro 
voked,  exasperated, — and,  at  such  moments,  my 
vehemence  was  a  torrent  *that  defied  all  let  or 
hindrance.  But  my  wife  went  not  with  me. 
From  that  day  forth  she  was  never  more  an  audi 
tor  of  mine.  She  pfayed  at  home — in  secret, 
and,  I  wejl  fnew,  that  her  prayers  were  for  me. 
But  her  firmness  vexed  me.  Her  superiority 
wounded  me.  Her  keenness  of  remark  annoyed 
me.  She  was  no  longer  to  be  deceived  ;  and, 
whatever  might  be  her  external  bearing — and  it 
was  exemplary, — I  felt  that,  though,  perhaps,  se 
cure  of  her  obedience, — I  was  no  longer  secure 
of  her  respect. 

Thus  passed  several  months,  and,  with  my 
domestic  relations  such  as  I  have  described 
them, — the  constraints  of  my  public  career  be 
came  more  irksome.  The  redeeming  circum 
stances  by  which  I  had  been  consoled,  the  ap 
plause  and  admiration — though  not  by  any  means 
lessened,— began  to  stale  upon  my  estimation. 
The  field  was  a  confined  one — the  audience 
Was  the  same- — I  had  already  heard  their  wonder 
—it  no  longer  gave  me  pleasure.  It  no  longer  re 
warded  my  eloquence  or  stimulated  my  exertions. 
I  felt,  more  and  more,  with  the  progress  of  every 
day,  the  intensest  cravings  for  my  freedom.  That 
denied,  what  was  all  in  possession  ?  The  passion 
grew  to  morbidness,  and,  but  for  one  event,  the 


HELEN    I1AL3EY.  13! 

catastrophe  which  finally  happened,  would  at  onco 
have  taken  place.     My  wife  brought  me  a  child, 
a  fine,  fair  son,  that,  for  the  time,  by  appealing  to 
the  more  ordinary  human  feeling,  reconciled  me 
somewhat  to  the  restraints  of  my  position.  Caress 
ing  him,  I  felt  how  sweet  it  was  to  be  a  father. 
My  wife  seized  the  moment  when  she  saw  me 
most  tenderly  engaged  in  fondling  him,  to  renew 
her  entreaties  and  exhortations, — and  so  meekly, 
so  tenderly,  so  like  an  angel, — that,  had  my  pas 
sions  been  less  like  that  of  a  demon,  I  must  have 
been  overcome.    I  ans\vered  her  gloomily,  almost 
fiercely,  and  left  the  room.    It  is  not  easy  for  you 
to  imagine  my  feelings  from  this  slight  survey  of 
my  position.     No  man,  whatever  be  his  nature, 
feels  quite  at  ease  in  daily  communion  of  the  most 
confiding  and  affectionate  character,  with  those 
whom  he  defrauds.     Such  was  the  relation  in 
•which  I  stood  with  my  flock.     Besides,  mine  was 
a  diseased  nature,  and  the  fraud  wras  one  of  the 
most  extreme  and  vital  character.     Every  en 
counter  with  my  congregation  was  productive  of 
a  struggle,  and  you  may  suppose  many  more 
struggles  of  conscience  and  prudence  must  have 
grown  out  of  a  position  which  exposed  me  to  some 
of  the  most  peculiar  temptations..  The  office 
which  I  held  is  one  of  peculiar  and  scarcely  limit- 
able  privileges  and  powers.     The  trial  must  be  a 
great  one,  even  where  the  professor  is  a  really 
good  man,  conscious  only  of  the  best  purposes. 
What  was  mine  ?    That  I  yielded— that  I  did  not 


132  HELEN  HALSEY. 

always  struggle, — that  I  frequently  abused  my 
trust,  you  may  conjecture— it  is  not  for  me  to  re* 
late.  But,  usually,  the  vicious  man,  if  busy  with 
out,  in  a  practice  which  wrongs  his  neighbor,  is 
not  often  met  at  home  with  those  rebukes  and  re 
proaches,  on  that  account,  which  he  does  not  hear 
abroad.  If  ho  himself  does  not  offend  against  his 
wife,  she  is  very  apt,  readily,  to  forgive  his  of 
fences  against  others,  Not  so,  mine  !  Her  love 
for  me,  based  originally  on  her  convictions  of  my 
piety,  wos  not  sufficient  to  keep  her  silent  when 
my  secret  was  in  her  possession*  Her  love  for 
purity  was  greater.  Her  loyalty  to  God  was 
superior  to  that  which  she  felt  for  me  5  and  for 
this,  I  was  indignant.  Half-formed  calculations, 
plans  and  purposes,  of  remedy  and  relief,  began 
to  fill  my  brain ;  and,  at  this  time,  had  my  sermons 
been  scanned  by  a  suspicious  judgment,  they 
would  have  been  found  distinguished  by  a  tono  of 
bitterness  and  sarcasm,  if  not  contempt,  which,  ad- 
dressed  as  they  were  to  my  audience,  would  have 
tended,  in  no  great  degree,  to  render  them  satis 
fied  either  with  their  seats  or  my  eloquence.  It  was 
then»  too,  that  I  amused  myself  at  their  ex 
pense,  with  those  nonsense  sermons,  of  which 
I  have  already  given  you  some  idea.  You  may 
imagine  it  did  not  increase  my  estimate  of  the 
.value  of  their  judgments,  even  when  shown  in 
my  own  eulogies,  when  I  found  them  particularly 
delighted  with  these  specimens  of  rigmarole. 
Having  reached  this  stage,  can  you  not  guess  the 


HELEN    IUL3EY.  133 

rest  ?  Having  gained  all  that  I  could  gain  by  the 
constraints  which  I  had  put  upon  my  nature — 
having  found  these  gains  unsatisfactory,  if  not 
worthless — what  had  I  to  bind  me  to  my  home  ? 
My  wife  prtied  rather  than  loved  me,  and  the 
flock  by  which  I  might  have  been  loved,  was  the 
object  of  my  own  scorn  and  dislike.  I  left  them, 
— and,  with  a  sense  of  joy  in  my  new  found 
liberty,  which  I  should  find  myself  at  a  loss  for 
language  to  describe.  You  cannot  conceive  the 
satisfaction  which  I  felt  in  writing  a  farewell 
letter  to  the  heads  of  the  church.  I  revenged 
myself  in  that  for  long  months  of  bondage.  I 
filled  it  with  passages  of  most  withering  scorn. 
I  avowed  my  own  hypocrisy,  but  reminded  them 
of  theirs,  and  asserted  my  better  claims  to  God's 
favor,  by  the  very  proceeding  by  which,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  world,  I  had  renounced  God 
himself— namely,  my  resignation  from  a  station 
to  which,  as  I  alleged,  scarcely  one  of  us  had  any 
proper  pretensions.  That  I  had  ceased  to  be  a 
hypocrite,  was  a  sufficient  reason  to  hope  for  my 
final  regeneration  .as  an  honest  man.  This  step 
was  taken  in  connection  with  several  others.  I 
renounced  home,  and  wife,  and  child,  at  the  samo 
moment.  It  was  sonfte  proof,  perhaps,  that  I  was 
not  utterly  reckless,  when  I  felt  unwilling  any 
longer  to  look  them  in  the  .face.  I  had  means, — 
I  had  money, — and,  passing  to  New  Orleans,  I 
found  an  element  of  sufficient  elasticity  for  my 
moral  nature,  in  its  various  theatres  of  pleasure 


134  HELEN   flALSEY 

• 

and  "dissipation.    I  took  ample  revenge  for  my 
long  abstinence.      I  drank-— I   yarned— and,  to 
make  a  long  story  short,  I  am  here  !    You  look 
at  me  with  horror !    Hear  me  !    I  believe  there 
is  a  God,  and  I  believe  there,  is  a  devil.    We  are 
the  subjects  of  one  or  the  other,  and  if  one  rejects 
cmr  services,  as  not  worthy  of  him,  it  is  scarcely 
possible"  U>  suppose  that  the  other  will  not  have 
need  of  them.    We  cannot  well  war  with  the 
direction  given  us.     Miracles  may  do  much,  but 
there  is  little  wisdom  in  waiting  for  them*     I 
would  hope  if  I  could — but  I  despair.     I  toil  with 
the  conviction  that  I  am  a  doomed  man— Doomed 
from  my  birth.     The  appalling  feeling  is  over 
me,  that  under  this  doom  I  will  perish — perish 
forever !    That  this  high  spirit  is  utterly  outcast 
—that  this  high  thought,  which  I  have  betrayed, 
and  this  glorious  mind  which  I  have  defrauded 
of  its  privileges,  and  degraded  to  evil  purposes- 
will  become  extinct.    I  shudder  with  the  thought 
of  annihilation,  since  it  is  only  the  hope  of  im 
mortality  that  moves  the  moral,  and  satisfies  the 
intellectual  nature.     You  see  that  I  do  not  exult 
in  this  depravation.     You  see  that  I  relate  the 
story  of  the  past  without  pleasure  1     That  I  suf 
fer  1     That  I  feel  the  follymnd  the  sin  of  all  that 
miserable  boy-career,  begun  in  narrow  schemes, 
/  and  finishing  in  shocking  perversion.     You  ask 
|     why  I  do  not  change — why  I  stubbornly  live  in 
sin — why  I  do  not  regret,  repent,  retrieve  ?    What 
ViLL  tell  you  of  my  tears,  my  prayers,  my  repent- 


^  HELEN    HALSEY.  135 

ance  ?  I  do  weep  !  I  do  repent !  But  what  is 
repentance  that  does  nothing  but  weep  ?  This  is 
mine  !  I  do  nothing  !  My  repentance  is  without 
results  !  I  cannot  pray — I  cannot  toil — in  any 
work  cf  good  !  There  is  a  terrible  power  that 
denies  me — that  keeps  me  back  from  the  very 
first  performances  of  repentance  !  I  dare  not 
ask  what  is  this  power  I  I  only  feel  i!>;  t  its  pre 
sence  is  upon  me,  baffling  my  purpose,  and 
mocking  at  all  my  hopes  !  It  never  can  be  with 
drawn  1  I  am  not  suffered  to  approach  the 
throne  of  God — I  am  doomed,  utterly  doomed  of 
heaven  1" 


Thus  ended  this  extraordinary  narrative.  The 
speaker  had  risen,  long  before  he  came  to  the 
close,  under  the  exciting  character  of  what  he 
said.  He  now  sat  down,  but,  suddenly,  again 
rose  to  his  feet,  as  if  to  depart.  There  had  been 
a  very  decided  and  remarkable  change  in  his  ap 
pearance,  during  its  progress.  At  the  beginning, 
his  features  had  been  marked  by  a  good-humor 
ed  indifference,  a  sort  of  easy,  careless,  good- 
natured  recklessness,  which  half  reconciled  me  to 
a  person,  against  whom  my  prejudices  were  na 
turally  strong  at  first.  But,  as  he  proceeded,  he 
became  excited  in  his  narrative,  and  very  soon 
illustrated,  by  his  example,  the  characteristic  of 
ntcnsity,  which  he  insisted  upon  as  so  prominent 
in  lus  temperament.  At  the  close*  and  when  ho 


136  HELEN    HALBET. 

pronounced  those  scarcely  coherent,  but  very 
solemn  sentences,  with  which  he  abruptly  finish- 
ed  his  narrative,  his  features  grew  dark.  There 
was  a  wild  and  troubled  expression  in  his  eyes, 

(which  were  sombre  and  restless,  as  some  deep 
pool  which  secret  fires  are  troubling.  His  lips 
were  parted  and  the  corners  drooped,  while  his 
breast  labored  with  emotions,  which  must  have 
aptly  corresponded  with  those  which  his  words 
expressed.  The  awful  thoughts  which  had  fallen 
from  him,  if  really  entertained,  were  well  calcu 
lated  to  awaken  the  most  fearful  agonies  in  his 
breast.  To  what  a  dreadful  approach  had  he 
come !  Upon  what  a  precipice  did  he  stand ; 
and  how  wretched  and  demoniac  the  sort  of 
philosophy  from  which  he  proposed  to  draw  his 
consolation,  We  may  suppose  that  when  Luci 
fer  broke  finally  with  Heaven,  and  had  no  more 
hope,  that  ho  consoled  himself  by  some  such 
philosophy.  He  was  not  in  the  mood,  nor  1  in 
the  vein,  for  farther  conversation.  At  such  a  mo 
ment,  any  attempt  at  exhortation  on  my  part, 
would  have  been  as  injudicious  as  impertinent. 
We  walked  together  for  a  space  in  silence*  I 
need  not  say  how  much  my  respect  for  this  un 
happy  person  had  increased,  from  hearing  his 
Btory.  I  say  respect, — because  it  was  now  evi* 
dent  to  me,  that  his  position  and  practices  were 
not  such  as  were  agreeable  to  himt_  He  was 
wretched,  and  the  worm  of  remorse  was  already 
busy  at  his  viials.  In  this  was  my  hope  on  his 


HELEN    HALSET.  137 

Behalf,  though  it  was  evidently  not  his  own. 
/There  is  some  hope  for  the  sinner  who  is  miser- 
aBle, — none  for  him  who  is  insensible.  As  we 
reached  the  place  where  he  had  joined  me  and 
we  were  about  to  separate,  he  turned  to  me, — 
and  said  warningly : 

"  I  had  forgotten !  Be  cool,  be  cautious,  in 
what  you  design.  Do  nothing  hastily!  Bud 
Halsey  already  suspects  you,  and  he  is  master 
here.  His  brother  can  do  nothing.  Be  warned ! 
1  would  befriend  you." 

"  What  mean  you  ?"  1  demanded. 

"Nothing  but  what  I  have  said.  It  is  what 
you  mean,  that  is  the  question.  Bud  Halsey  has 
notc(  d  your  discontent.  He  suspects  its  cause. 
He  suspects  you,  your  wife,  his  brother !  He  has 
his  eye  upon  you  all.  Beware !" 

He  disappeared  in  another  instant,  and,  musing 
upon  what  he  said,  I  made  my  way  homewards. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WUAT  were  my  designs  ?  The  Inst  words, — 
the  warning  caution  which  Mowbray  had  sug 
gested,  produced  a  closer  degree  of  self-examina 
tion  than  I  had  ever  before  undertaken  I  naa 


138  HELEN   HALSET. 

I 

no  designs.  I  was  aware  of  none  }  but  that  it 
was  expected  of  me  that  I  should  entertain  some, 
naturally  led  me  to  them.  Was  I  to  be  fettered 
in  this  way  all  my  life ; — my  youth  lost ; — my 
better  days  and  energies  swallowed  up  in  such  a 
miserable  sphere  of  imbecility  as  that  in  which  I 
found  myself — release  from  which  seemed  only  ob 
vious  on  terms  of  still  worse  degradation  ?  The 
thought  was  inexpressibly t  humiliating.  From 
humiliation  I  got  strength — I  got  resolve.  My  pur 
pose  suddenly  adopted,  was  to  fly  from  my  prison 
—to  devote  all  my  energies,  all  my  intellect,  to  this 
one  purpose.  But  art  was  necessary — cunning — I 
was  to  foil  the  devil  at  his  own  game — with  his 
own  weapons.  To  this  resolve  I  rushed,  ere  I 
reached  the  cottage  of  Bush  Halsey.  There,  I 
found  my  wife  awaiting  me.  I  threw  oft"  the  air 
of  despondency  which  had  possessed  me.  The 
simple  determination  to  be  doing  something  had 
its  effect  in  relieving  me  from  the  mental  prostra 
tion  under  which  I  had  suffered.  I  met  Helen 
with  a  degree  of  buoyancy  which  I  had  never 
shewn  before.  My  rude  laughter,  and  violent 
mirth,  made  her  look  at  me  with  surprise,  but  it 
was  a  surprise  not  unmixed  with  pleasure.  She 
congratulated  me  and  herself  upon  the  change, 
and,  in  the  belief  that  I  was  as  happy  as  she  wish 
ed  me,  and  quite  content  with  herself — of  which 
my  late  sullenncss  had  made  her  somewhat  doubt 
ful, — she  surrendered  herself  up  to  the  feeling  of 
joy  which,  for  the  time,  had  neither  doubt  nor 


HELEN   HALSEY.  139 

qualification.     In  these   feelings  of  satisfaction, 
Bush  Halsey  shared.     He  had  beheld  my  des 
pondency  with  dissatisfaction,  and  readily  divined 
the  cause.     But  he  could  see  no  remedy.     He 
knew   his   brother — the    tyrannical    nature,  by 
which,  himself  governed,  he  governed  all  others; 
and,  believing   that  I  had  no  escape  from   the 
Swamp,  he  could  only  counsel  me  to  the  sort  of 
resignation  by  which  he  himself  was  reconciled 
to  it.     But  the  change  which  my  deportment  had 
undergone,  if  it  deceived  both  himself  and  daugh 
ter,  did  not  long  deceive  the  latter,  or  she  began 
to  doubt  the  purity  and  propriety  of  its  origin. 
Women  are  close  observers,  and  arrive,  by  the 
keenest  instincts,  at  the  truth  in  all  things  which 
much  affect  the  objects  whom  they  love.     What 
ever  might  be  the  success  of  my  practice  upon 
others,  its  tendency  was  more  than  doubtful  to 
her,  and,  after  a  few  weeks,  she  was  less  satisfied 
with  my  violent  good  spirits  than  she  had  been  at 
first.     These   alone,   perhaps,  would  not  have 
disquieted  her,  but,  by  this  time,  I  had  become 
rather  a  frequent  associate  with  the  outlaw  par 
son.     The  flexibility  of  this  man  was  wonderful. ' 
He  had  left'me,  on  the  day  when  I  hud  heard  his 
narrative,  looking  more  like  a  maniac  than  a  man. 
Never   could  I  suppose  that  the  same   person 
would  ever  smile  again.    The  next  day,  he  met 
me  with  a    bawdy  jest.      Jt  was  one  of  the 
characteristics  of  his  temperament  to  be  easily 
moved  by  the  passing  influence,  whether  grave 


140  HELEN   BAL8BT. 

I 

or  gny~a  sort  of  moral  character  to  receive 
it»  dark  or  bright  aspects  from  the  colors  with 
which  ho  came  in  contact,    I  found  him  al 
ways  thus  capricious  j — at  one  moment  gloomy, 
even  to  ferocity,  and  sometimes  touched  with 
a  sort  of  religious  fanaticism  that  would  have 
done  honor  to   tho    ro^gcdest    bare-bones    of 
the  Long  IJn filament.     The  next  day,  ho  was 
the  courtier — nil  gravity  und  smiles,  and  as  loose 
in  his  morals  as  the  most  reckless  cavalier  of 
tho   Court   of  Charles  the  Second — as  courtly 
as   Waller,   and  as  licentious  as   Rochester,— 
as  sentimental  sometimes  as  the  one,  and  again 
as  filthily  witty  as  tho  otliurf   Ho  realized  tho 
extremes  of  character  more  suddenly,  in  the  same 
person,  and  frequently  on  the  same  day,  than  any 
other  man  I  ever  met*    I  confess  that  I  was  not 
uniVcquently  pleaded  with  his  society — his  wit— 
hiri  eloquence— his  Hfntiment,     He  had  all  upon 
occasion,  und.  had  ho  been  an  adroit  man,  might, 
J  believe,  have  led  me  as  ho  pleased.     But  he 
1   was  totally  devoid  of  judgment.    Had  none  of 
m       that  moral  prudence  which  makes  the  great  poli 
tician  ;  and,  while  he  won  at  one  momentt  -he  too 
frequently  offended  all  my  tastes,  and  disgusted 
me  at  another.     I  sought  him,  however,  and  this 
flattered  him.     I  was  rather  superior  as  a  com 
panion  to  those  with  whom  he  ordinarily  associ 
ated,  and,  in  the  better  capacity  "which  I  brought 
to  appreciate  his  merits,  he  showed  himself  very 
accessible  on  tho  scoro  of  mine.     In  the  new 


-H 

HELEN    HAI.SEY.  141 

pleasure  which  I  occasionally  found  in  his  society, 
— in  the  excitement  which  it  afforded  and  offered 
me,  and  in  the  prosecution  of  the  plan  which  I 
had  hit  upon  for    extricating  myself  from   the 
meshes  in  which  I  was  bound,  I  sought  him  fre 
quently.     He  was    not  the  person  lo  pry  very 
deeply  into  the  sources  of  the  pleasure  which  he 
received,  nor  to  analyse  those  motives  in  others, 
the  results  of ^  which  afforded  him   the   society 
which  he  desired.     He  seemed  to  take  for  grant 
ed,  with  that  vanity  which  was  a  large  feature 
in  his  character,  that  I  sought  him  because  of  his 
intellect.     1  encouraged  the  idea,  made  frequent 
appeals  to  his  judgment,  and,  by  getting  him  to 
dilate  upon  various  passages  and  portions  of  his 
story,  directed  his  thoughts  upon  himself  rather 
than  to  mine.     In  this  way  I  brought  not  only 
him,  but  others,  to  the  conviction  that  I  was  fast 
losing  my  superior  moral  standard,  and  reconcil 
ing  myself  to  such  as  were  paramount  in  the 
Swamp.     Bud  Halsey  looked  on  me  with  more 
complacency,  and  not  unfrcquently  contrived  to 
join  the  parson  and  myself  in  tho  long  rambles 
which  we  now  so  frequently  took  together.     He 
had  occasionally  n  word  for  me  of  more  particu 
lar  favor,  and  took  care  to  confirm,  by  sentences 
of  mingled  sneer  and  compliment,  those  impres 
sions,  which,  ho  fancied,  had  been  conveyed  by 
my  companion  to  my  mind. 
.  *  You  will  be  a  man  yet  1"  was  his  frequent 


149  ItBLK*   HAL8EY. 


phrase,  as  he  left  us  for  his  other  objects.    *  Your 
eyes  are  opening." 

But  the  circumstances  which  gave  him  satis* 
faction  now,  afforded  none  to  his  brother,  Bush 
Halsey,  or  my  wife.  Their  attachment  to  me, 
os  I  have  intimated  rather  than  said,  arose  in 
part  from  the  tenacious  firmness  with  which  I 
had  held 'to  my  virtues.  I  have  endeavored  to 
show  that  Bush  Halsey  was  the  victim  of  his  own 
imbecility,  as  well  as  of  circumstances.  A  good 
man,  meaning  well,  and  with  an  excellent  mind, 
he  was  yet  controlled  entirely  by  the  superior1 
will  of  his  brother— a  man  of  inferior  intellect— 
of  bad  habits  and  character-*-but  of  indomitable 
energies,  and  unrelaxing  determination.  It  was 
his  own  misery  that,  unwilling  to  face  bankruptcy 
and  its  consequences,  in  the  civilized  community 
in  which  he  had  lived  like  a  nobleman,  he  was 
yet  compelled  to  rear  up  his  only  child — a  girl 
*•— in  contact  with  the  wretched  profligates 
among  whom  I  found  him.  But,  once  a  slave, 
such  a  man  always  remains  a  slave.  From  the 
moment  that  he  yielded  to  the  suggestions  of 
his  brother,  and  fled  from  his  creditors  to  the 
wilderness,  from  that  moment,  he  yielded  himself 
up  to  a  bondage,  from  which  he  did  not  now  hope 
to  set  himself  free.  But  that  his  child  should 
grow  up  in  such  a  situation,  with  no  escape  from 
such  a  life,  was  to  him  a  source  of  perpetual  suf 
fering.  Elegant  himself  in  his  tastes,  he  had  tutor 
ed  hers,  with  a  degree  of  watchfulness  and  skill 


HELEN    1IALSEY.  143 

which  can  better  be  conjectured  than  detailed . 
and  it  was  with  a  feeling. of  exultation  therefore, 
that  he  hailed  the  circumstances,  already  narra 
ted,  by  which  I  had  become  her  husband.  Still, 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  counselled,  encour 
aged,  or  in  any  wise  contributed  to  those  arrange 
ments  of  his  brother,  by  which  that  event  was 
precipitated.  Let  me  do  him  the  justice  to  say, 
that  I  verily  believe  the  event,  as  it  did  happen, 
was  distasteful  to  him.  His  simple  wish,  as  he 
frankly  avowed  to  me  afterwards,  was  that  we 
should  grow  together,  by  the  natural  tendencies 
of  a  sympathetic  passion,  and  he  did  not  believe 
that  his  brother  would  seriously  oppose  my  de 
parture  from  their  retreat,  when  my  connection 
with  Helen  should  become  indissoluble.  He  did 
not  know  the  despotical  nature  of  that  man.  Ho 
did  not  conceive  it  possible  that  such  a  connec 
tion,  as  that  which  Bud  Halsey  acknowledged 
with  the  outlaws,  could  so  completely  subdue 
and  set  at  nought,  the  natural  ties  of  kindred  flesh 
and  blood.  He  was  yet  to  learn,  how  terribly 
and  entirely  this  was  to  be  done  hereafter. 

It  will  be  easy  to  understand  how,  even  to 
him,  not  less  than  my  wife,  the  idea  that  I  was 
about  to  be  beguiled  from  my  virtue,  by  the 
.subtleties  of  Mowbray,  was  of  intolerable  annoy 
ance.  He  had  indulged  himself  in  the  hope,  that 
I  was  to  restore  his  daughter  to  society.  For 
himself  he  had  no  serious  cares  on  this  subject. 
He,  too,  would  like  to  return  to  society.  .  He 


144  HELEN  X II  ALflfiY. 

lived  among  the  butlaws  in  a  sort  of  Coventry, 
distrusting  them,  and  half  distrusted  by  them  ;— 
but  he  was  no  longer  so  youthful  as  to  feel  deep 
ly  the  privation,  except  on  account  of  one,  whose 
happiness  was  truly  so  much  dearer  than  his  own. 
lie  did  not  doubt  that  the  tinw  would  come,  when 
I  should  bo  suflercd^  to  go  free,  and  ho  shrunk 
with  horror  from  the  thought  that,  meanwhile,  I 
should  be1  guilty  of  any  course  of  conduct,  which 
should  lessen  my  desire  to  return,  or  aftect  my 
pcaco  of  mind  and  nccurity  when  1  did  so.  Tito 
clmngoH  in  my  deportment  surprised  him,  nnd, 
as  in  the  case  of  his  daughter,  at  the  first  blush, 
gave  him  pleasure.  They  had  both  been  dis 
posed  to  ascribe  my  previous  gloom  to  a  les- 
•sening  of  my  regard  for  the  latter — to  the  staling 
of  a  boyish  passion  in  possession  of  its  object;  and 
tx  change  in  this  roHpcot,  in  my  conduct,  was  too 
grateful  at  first  sight,  to  render  them  at  all  dcsi- 
rous  of  seeking  farther  into  its  causes.  But  when 
my  intimacy  with  Muwbray  was  remarked — 
when,  too,  it  was  seen  that  1  betrayed  more  cu 
riosity—more  (sympathy— with  the  proceedings 
of  the  outlaws,— -and  when  Hud  HulNoy  began  to 
regard  me  with  favor, — every  apprehension  of 
poor  Helen  was  around.  The  favor  of  her 
uncle,  seemed  to  her,  one  of  the  most  doubtful 
and  dangerous  of  signs.  The  danger  seemed 
conclusive,  when,  one  morning,  Hud  Hulsey  sent 
me  my  horsi1.  The  bravo  animal  had  been  taken 
from  me,  at  my  first  coming — I  had  not  been  per- 


HELEN    HALSEY.  145 

milled  to  see  him  since,  and  when,  with  a  senti- 
menl  of  pride  nnd  pleasure  which  I  could  not  con 
ceal,  I  went  forth,  laid  my  hand  upon  his  neck, 
and  heard  him  whinny  his  recognition  as  he 
heard  my  voice, — then  all  her  suspiciors  seemed 
confirmed.  I  was  about  to  leap  upon  him,  with 
all  that  gush  of  unmeasured  exultation,  which 
youth  feels,  confident  of  slrength,  buoyant  with 
prospects  of  assured  success,  and  in  the  posses 
sion  of  one  of  those  agents  of  power  and  speed, 
.in  the  employment  of  which  the  impetuous  nature 
feels  all  that  enthusiasm  and  delight  which  grows 
out  of  the  intimate  union  and  joint  action  of  blood 
and  brain ; — my  hand  was  on  his  neck,  my  foot  in 
the  slirrup — when  Helen  called  me  to  her  side. 

**  Go  not  yet,  dear  Henry — come  with  me  first 
—but  a  moment.  I  would  speak  with  you." 

I  confess  to  a  little  reluctance  at  quitting  the 
animal,  even  at  the  solicitation  of  one  so  dear. 
But  I  followed  her.  There  was  nobody  besides 
in  the  cottage.  Her  father  had  gone  out  on  a 
ramble.  When  I  joined  her  in  the  chamber  to 
which  she  had  returned,  she  at  once,  and  passion 
ately,  putting  her  hand  upon  my  arm,  thus  ad 
dressed  me: — 

"Oh,  Henry,  forgive  me,  but  I  fear  you,  I  sus 
pect  you !" 

"Suspect  me  ? — of  what,  dear  Helen?" 

'•  This  horse,  this  new  favor  of  my  uncle,  your 
intimacy  with  that  Mr.  Mowbray,  all  moke  me 
tremble  lest  they  ceduce  you  to  their  evil  prac 


140  HELEN   HALSEY. 

tices— lest  you  should  be  tempted*-— lest  you 
should  fall !  Oh,  Henry,  be  not  tempted,  be  firm, 
go  not  with  them  to  do  evil.  Go  notr— for  my 
sake,  Henry,  for  your  own  sake; — go  not,  go 
not  1" 

I  kissed  her,  oh !  how  fondly— pressed  her  to 
my  bosom — and  while  the  tears  gathered  in  her 
eyes, — while  she  clung  to  me  with  continued 
pleading,^— I  begged  her  to  be  quiet — to  believe 
me  still.  It  was  necessary,  however,  that  I  should 
maintain  appearances,  and,  breaking  from  her,  I 
hurried  to  horse,  and  proceeded  to  join  Mowbray 
in  a  canter  which  he  proposed.  How  ^fclt  my 
self,  once  more  on  horseback!  What  a  feeling 
of  pride  it  inspires,  mounted  on  a  noble  steed 
who  knows  his  own  strength,  and. rejoices  in  the 
free  play  of  his  majestic  limbs.  My  horse  knew 
his  rider,  and  I  him,  and  as  I  rode  forth  to  meet 
Mowbray,  I  found  myself  calculating  the  chances 
of  a  long  chase,  through  swamp  and  through 
briar,  against  any,  the  best  mettled,  in  the  camp 
of  the  outlaws. 


HELEN    HALSEY.  147 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  will  be  unnecessary  that  I  should  enter  into 
the  details  of  the  game  which  I  had  taken  it  in 
hand  to  play.     Of  the  numerous  daily  interviews 
I  had  with  Mowbray,  and  others  of  the  outlaws, 
I  shall  say  little.     Let  it  suffice  that  I  flattered  . 
myself  with  having  fooled  them  all  to  the  top  of 
their  bent.     Even  Bud  Halsey,  I  at  length  grew 
satisfied,  had  became  convinced  that  I  was  ready 
to  thrust  out  my  cold  iron,  and  cry  *  stand  !'  to  a 
true  man,  whenever  he  should  give  the  signal. 
In  this,  the  probabilities  favored  me.      It  was 
natural  enough  that  a  youth  of  my  age  arid  tern* 
per,  situated  as  I  was  at  the  moment,  should  soon 
overcome  tho  scruples  of  my  education,  in  an 
anxiety  to  feel  my  freedom  once  more — nay,,  that 
my  principles  should  very  soon  become  corrupted, 
breathing  such  a  rogues'  atmosphere,  and  in  daily 
contact  with  some  of  the  choicest  specimens  of 
scoundrelism.     I  had  striven,  in  playing  my  part, 
not  to  suffer  it  to  appear  that  I  made  the  transi 
tion  too  easily  from  a  rugged  honesty  to  a  loose 
indifference  to  all  its  exactions.     On  the  contrary, 
at  first,  I  allowed  it  to  appear  that  my  chief  plea 
sure  was  in  being  once  more  on  horseback,     I 
next  suffered  Mowbray  to  perceive  that  his  con 
versation  interested  me.     I  laughed  heartily  at 
his  jests  ; — he  had  no  small  powers  of  humor,  and 


148  1IBLBN    I1ALSKY. 

could  hit  off  a  ludicrous  picture  in  low  life  with 
the  extravagance  and  felicity  of  Lover.     By  little 
and  little  I  let  mysel£  be  led  to  association  with 
others,  and,  finally,  to  partake  in  their  amuse 
ments.     The  outlaws  were  generally  great  card- 
players,  and   Mowbfay  himself  was  an  adept. 
They  had  other   amusements,  some    of  which 
were  even  'of  less  intellectual  character.     Quoits, 
hurling  the1  bar,  and  the  Indian  ball-play,  were  in 
common  use,  at  moments  of  leisure ; — and,  for 
the  indulgence  of  these  amusements,  they  had 
more   than   one    fine  amphitheatre,  formed   by 
natural  but  small   prairie  spots  in  the  Swamp. 
Pistol  and  rifle  shooting,  I  readily  joined  in,  for 
reasons  that  will  be   understood.     It  gave  me 
practice  in  the  weapons  upon  which,  could  I 
secure  them,  it  might  be  that  I  should  have  to 
depend  ; — though,  when  I  saw  how  expert  were 
the  outlaws  generally  with  them,  I  shuddered  at 
the  idea  of  encountering  them.     I  have  seen  them 
frequently  trim  their  dog's  ears  and  tails  by  rified- 
pistols,  at  ten  or  twelve  paces ;  and  there  was 
one  of  them,  an  Alabamian,  by  the  name  of  Brew- 
ton,  that  could,  at  every  shot,  hit  a  half  dollar 
piece  while  falling,  which  he  himself  had  thrown 
into  the  air.     I  could  do  nothing  like  this,  but  I 
could  lay  my  bullet  at  twelve  paces  within  the 
circle  of  a  man's  breast,  and  I  did  not  care,  for 
such  purposes  as  I  had  in  view,  to  do  better  than 
that. 

In  these   sports,  Bud  Halsey  now  frequently 
joined  us,  and,  if  you  can  suppose  such  a  thing  as 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  149 

civility  in  a  bear,  then  was  he  civil  to  me.     He 
had  a  sort  of  rough,  condescending  pleasantry 
about  him,  when  in  a  good  humor,  which  greatly 
increased  his  popularity  with  the  men,  but  which, 
us  it  was  a   seeming  condescension,  was  more 
offensive  to  my  pride  than  had  been  his  insolence 
and  harshness.     But  I  contrived  to  keep  down 
my  gorge,  and  to  stomach,  in  some  way,  what  I 
could  not  easily  digest.     It  was  a  severe  task, 
but  I  toiled  faithfully  to  maintain   appearances 
suited  to  the  new  character  I  had  assumed.     I 
pleased  myself  with  the  hope  that  I  had  deceived 
him.     He  evidently  looked  with  satisfaction  at 
my  increasing  familiarity  with  his  men,  and  at 
my  engaging  in  practices  which,  if  not  in  them 
selves  immoral,  are  at  least  very  often  associated, 
among  men,  with  those  which  are  so.     I  gamed, 
and  drank,  and  swore — growing  worse,  every 
day,  by  little  and  little,  and  reconciling  myself  to 
these  excesses  by  a  frequent  secret  reference  to 
.  the  object  which  I  desired  to  attain.     It  was  a 
gratifying  thing  to  me,  as  it  convinced  me  of  my 
successful    acting,   that    Bush   Halsey  and    bis 
daughter  both  appeared  to  take  my  change  of 
•  character  seriously  to  heart.      At    length,  her 
frequent  sighs  changed  to  expostulations,  and  it 
became  a  task  of  greater  difficulty  than  ever  to 
keep  my  secret.     I  could  only  evade  and  baffle 
scrutiny  by  putting  on  an  air  of  levity  and  reck 
lessness,  which  usually  had  the  effect  of  silencing 
the  entreaties  which  I  felt  that  it  might  be  im 
prudent  to  satisfy. 


150  HELEN    HALSEY. 

But  my  change  o!f  demeanor  nnd  profession, 
involved  me  in  one  difficulty,  extrication  from 
which  was  not  so  easy.  Having  given  a  loose  on 
one  occasion,  to  my  new  principles,  and  very  dc-. 
liberately  declared  my  scorn  of  the  social  contract 
as  it  existed  in  legalized  society,  in  the  hearing 
ot  Mowbray,  I  was  confounded  by  his  clapping 
me  on  the  shoulder  nnd  telling  mo  that  a  fine 
chance  was ' now  before  rno  for  making  n  begin 
ning—that  Bud  HulHoy  had  received  intelligence 
of  a  large  sum  of  government  money  being  on  its 
way  from  one  of  the  land-offices,  which  it  was  his 
design  to  make  sure  of,  and,  for  this  purpose,  meant 
to  scatter  his  whole  force,  in  every  direction 
along  the  possible  route  of  travel.  Bud  Halscy 
made  his  appearance  suddenly,  a  moment  after, 
and  confirmed  the  statement.  I  fancied  I  could 
detect  a  keenness  of  glance,  an  intense  and  search 
ing  expression  in  his  eye,  as  he  listened  for  what 
I  should  say.  I  did  not  hesitate.  I  professed 
myself  pleased  with  an  occasion  to  try  my  skill, 
concluding  with  the  hope  that  the  affair  might  bo 
a  spirited  one— that  the  guardian  of  the  money 
would  find  an  occasion  of  fight. 

"  If  you  have  the  stomach  for  it/*  said  Bud 
Halsey,  "  you  shall  be  the  first  at  the  gripe.  But 
you  are  scarcely  the  man,"  said  he,  with  some* 
thing  of  a  sneer,  "  for  such  a  business.  You  have 
not  been  long  enough  from  your  mother." 

"  You  shall  see  !"  I  replied,  though  I  did  not  ex- 


HELEN    IIALSEY.  151 

actly  see  the  purpose  of  his  sneer,  unless  it  wa?  to 
goad  my  vanity. 

The  movement  promised  to  be  an  important 
one  \vith  me 1    What  did  I  propose  to  do  1    What 
did  I  promise  myself  by  it  1     It  was  not  until  af 
ter  I  was  committed  to  the  enterprise  that  1  asked 
myself  this  question.     Then,  the  whole   results 
opened  before  my  eyes.     What  should  I  aim  at 
but  escape  ?     I  should  be  provided  with  horse  and 
weapons — and  a  sudden   dash  to  right   or  left 
would  be  only  a  natural  movement  such  as  was 
to  be  expected  from  the  events  of  such  an  expe 
dition.     On  the  other  hand,  there  was  the  danger 
of  being  suspected,  and  sped  by  an  expeditious 
bullet ;  or  of  not  being  able  to  carry  through  my 
design  of  escape  from  the  lack  of  opportunity,  arid 
of  being  compelled  to  countenance,  if  not  assist 
in  the  contemplated  robbery.     The  affair  was  no 
child's  play,  and  it  behoved  me  to  consider  it  with 
equal  calmness  and  resolution.     I  had  gone  too 
far  to  recede.     Besides,  the. confinement  to  which 
I  was  subjected  had  become  so  irksome  that  I  was 
willing  to  encounter  any  risk  rather  than  continue 
in  it.     As  it  promised  to  be  unending  otherwise, 
I  felt  that  the  earliest  movement  was  necessarily 
the  best.     I  said  nothing  of  my  design,  however, 
to  my  wife.     I  preferred  that  she  should  neither 
hear  nor  suspect  it,  till  I  was  off.     Is  it  asked 
whether  I  proposed  to  abandoo  her  ?     Far  from 
it.     1  truly  loved  her, — but  I  could  not  bear  the 
torment  of  my  situation,  and  my  purpose  was  to 


152  HRLEN    HALiJCT. 

I 

leave  a  letter  for  her,  declaring  my  feelings,  the 
necessity  by  which  I  was  impelled,  and  my  wish 
that  she  should  rejoin  me  at  an  early  moment  in 
Alabama.  I  designated  a  spot  where  I  would 
meet  her,  and  pacified  my  own  doubts  with  the 
conviction  that  once  I  had  fairly  escaped  from  his 
clutches,  there  could  be  no  mot've  on  the  part  of 
Bud  Halsey,  to  keep  his  niece  from  a  situation  in 
life,  in  which,  while  he  could  fear  no  risk,  she 
would  hold  an  agreeable  and  honorable  station. 
But  I  did  not  know  the  man. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MY  determination  was  not  suffered  to  remain  a 
secret.  The  day  previous  to  our  contemplated 
foray,  Bush  Halsey,  my  wife's  father,  returned  to 
the  cottage  in  no  little  excitement.  His  daughter 
and  myself  were  sitting  beside  the  fire.  His 
countenance  was  filled  with  an  agitation  which 
he  did  not  endeavor  to  conceal ;  and,  after  a 
hurried  glance  about  the  premises  to  see  that 
there  were  no  eaves-droppers,  he  addressed  me, 
in  my  wife's  hearing,  after  the  following  manner : 

"Henry,  what's  this  that  Bud  Halsey  tells  me? 
He  says  that  you  go  forth  with  him,  to-morrow 
night — I  need  not  say  on  what  sort  of  business."  , 


HELEN    HAL8EY.  153 

"  It  is  even  so,  Sir." 

"  Henry,  dear  Henry !"  exclaimed  Helen,  ap 
proaching  me,  confounded,  incapable  of  saying 
more,  yet  saying,  how  much,  in  that  brief,  broken 
exclamation. 

"  You  cannot  mean  it !"  said  the  father. 

"What  am  I  to  do,  Sir?"  I  asked — "remain 
here  all  my  life — doomed — a  vegetable  forever  ?" 

"  Do  not  this,  at  least !  Better  remain  the 
vegetable.  Incur  not  that  terrible  destiny  of  my 
brother,  in  which,  though  free  from  his  crimes,  I 
must  still  partake.  For  God's  sake,  young  man, 
think  of  your  parents,  friends,  rank  in  society— 
reputation!  Think!  think  I 

I  need  not  detail  the  conversation.  The  read 
er  will  perceive  its  tone.  The  agonized  entreaties 
of  my  wife, — the  earnest,  pleading  exhortations 
of  her  father — his  tears  no  less  than  hers — assur 
ing  nlTe  of  their  joint  sincerity — left  mo  without 
any  good  reason  why  I  should  not  relieve  them 
from  their  sufferings,  by  letting  them  know  the 
whole  truth.  1  told  my  story — showed  how  I 
had  been  practising  upon  Mowbray  and  his  fel 
lows — and  what  was  the  particular  motive  of  my 
present  determination. 

*4  It  is  perilous,  but  I  cannot  disapprove  of  your 
plan.  Go  when  you  will,  it  will,  perhaps,  be  in 
evitable  that  you  should  '-cur  some  risk.  I  too, 
have  been  thinking  of  tl  is  flight,— not  for  myself 
— for  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  me,  in 
going  once  more  into  a  gentler  world,-— but  for 


61  HELEN   HAL0ET. 

you  and  Helen.  Why  not  work  together  now  f 
We  shall,  perhaps,  never  have  a  better  chance  if 
we  wait  a  thousand  years." 

My  wife  eagerly  caught  at  the  idea.  1  was 
not  less  pleased  with  it  myself,  but  was  less  san 
guine  of  success  in  an  attempt  at  escape,  burden 
ed  with  a  woman,  under  circumstances  that  would 
require  great  promptness,  and  possibly  involve 
the,  necessity  'of  fighting.  -But  Bush  Halsey  met 
all  my  objection!* 

"I  have  been  somewhat  prepared  fur  nuoh  n 
movement,  fur  some  weeks  past,  I  saw  your  un- 
happiness  for  a  time,  and  readily,  understood  it. 
It  was  then  that  I  planned  a  mode  of  operations, 
of  which  I  should  have  spoken  to  you  before,  but 
for  the  sudden  change  in  your  behavior— a  change 
only  to  bo  accounted  I'm,  by  Nuppomng  that  you 
had  become  completely  reconciled  to  your  bonds, 
and,  which  was  worse,  not  less  reconciled  to  the 
loose  morals  by  which  they  were  governed. 
Now  that  wo  understand  one  another,  wo  can 
act  together,  and  with  a  better  prospect  of  sue- 
CCNH,  Let  mn  tell  YOU  my  plnn," 

HUN!)  Halsey  had  indeed  taken  up  tho  affair 
with  a  degree  of  energy,  quite  unusual  with  him. 
He  surprised  me,  not  less  by  his  octivity  and  pro 
gress,  than  by  the  plausiblcness  of  his  scheme. 
After  giving  mo  tho  details,  he  proceeded  thuts 

"Tho  two  plans  can  be  made  to  harmonize  ad« 
msrably.  The  boat  lies  on  Cedar  Island — the 
creek  broadens  at  that  point  with  a  swift  current, 


HELEN    HALBEY  155 

and  carries  us,  without  effort,  into  the  main  stream. 
Once  let  us  pass  Buffalo  Bend,  and  we  are  pretty 
safe.  That  is  the  last  point  of  land  on  which 
Bud  keeps  a  watch.  The  difficulty  will  be  in 
getting  to  the  boat  on  Cedar  Island.  Cedar 
Island  is  two  miles  off.  The  route  is  circuitous 
and  well  watched.  But  the  watch  will  be  dimin 
ished  when  Bud  Halsey  takes  the  road,  and  you 
have,  to  a  certain  extent,  disarmed  suspicion. 
Nowr,  this  is  what  I  propose.  Bud  sets  off  at 
sundown — you  are  to  follow  with  Mowbray, 
Hard-Riding  Ross,  and  a  couple  more,  who  are, 
in  reality,  but  spies  upon  you.  They  will  call 
for  you  at  dark.  Your  horse  shall  be  in  waiting 
for  you  at  the  front  door,  and  everything  shall 
look  as  if  you  were  getting  yourself  in  readiness 
within.  Meanwhile,  you  shall  garb  yourself  in 
my  old  grey  overcoat.  My  slouch-cap  will  pret 
ty  well  cover  your  brows  and  hair.  Your  height 
is  very  nearly  that  of  mine,  your  bulk  is  some 
thing  less,  but  we  have  no  moon,  and,  even  with  a 
bright  starlight  down  upon  you,  the  difference  be~ 
tween  our  persons  is  not  so  great,  as  to  startle 
the  suspicions  of  any  of  our  fellows.  You  shall 
take  my  staff,  imitate  my  walk,  ar  3nd  your 
way  down  through  the  pine  avenue,  along  the 
main  trace,  which  you  can  keep  with  tolerable 
ease,  if  there  be  any  light  at  ail.  There  will  be 
three  sentries  at  most,  whom  you  will  meet- 
possibly  but  one, — and  as  I  have  been  pursuing 
this  very  walk  for  three  weeks  past,  now  giving 


J56  HELEN   HALSEY. 

I 

the  word,  but  most  frequently  not  even  accosted, 
the  probability  is  that  you  will  pass  securely  in 
like  manner*  You  will  find  Helen  already  at  the 
boat  She  must  contrive  to  get  there  by  another 
route,  a  full  hour  before  you.  As  «oon  as  you 
join  her,  let  the  canoe  drop  with  the  stream,  un 
til  you  get  to  Fawn's  Point — she  knows  the  place 
• — there  you  will  run  into  a  cove,  and  at  that 
place,  I  must  join  you.  You  could  scarcely  get 
along  into,  and  down  the  river,  unless  with  a 
pilot.  It  is  fortunate  that  I  am  a  good  one.— 
Meanwhile,  I  will  keep  Mowbray  and  his  dogs 
in  play,  until  I  think  you  safe  on  the  water,  and 
then  get  to  you  as  I  can.  He  will  probably  send 
or  ride  after  Bud  Halsey,  to  advise  him  of  your 
flight.  He  will  scarcely  think  to  impede  mine.'* 

Much  more  was  said,  which  it  is  not  neces 
sary  to  repeat.  But  we  perfected  our  arrange 
ments  quite  as  satisfactorily  as  it  was  in  the  na 
ture  of  circumstances  to  allow.  Meanwhile,  the 
task  of  dissimulation  was  doubly  difficult  That 
night  I  took  supper  with  Mowbray,  had  a  famous 
rouse  of  it,  and  listened,  for  the  tenth  time,  to  one 
of  his  most  licentious  stories.  •**  -•— ..^. 


HELEN    HALSEY.  '  157 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE  next  day  dawned  upon  us  fair  and  light. 
The  "better  to  disarm  suspicion,  I  spent  the  morn 
ing  in  company  with  Mowbray,  and  in  exercise 
on  horseback.  I  dined  at  the  cottage. — Bud 
Halsey  looking  in  just  before  my  arrival,  and 
asking  where  I  was.  I  met  him  when  leaving 
Mowbray,  after  our  morning's  ride.  He  gave 
me  a  smile  of  peculiar  significance,  but  said  no 
thing.  I  remembered  this  smile  afterwards,  when 
it  became  a  question  with  me  whether  I  had  ever, 
for  a  single  moment,  succeeded  in  deceiving  this 
keen-sighted  and  suspicious  outlaw.  Our  dinner 
passed  in  silence.  I  had  no  appetiie.  Helen's 
eyes  were  tearful.  Bush  Halsey  was  in  better 
spirits,  though  his  mood  seldom  rose  above  that 
evening  serene  which  had  always  marked  his 
calm,  benevolent  disposition.  Dinner  was  scarce 
ly  over  before  Helen  prepared  to  take  her  depar 
ture.  She  was  to  seek  the  island  by  a  route  at 
once  unpleasant  and  circuitous.  It  was  necessary 
that  we  should  not  all  be  seen  on  the  same  route. 
That  which  I  was  to  take,  was  assigned  me,  as 
the  easiest  to  be  found  by  one  so  much  a  stranger 
as  myself  to  the  intricacies  of  the  Swamp.  We 
parted  with  many  tears,  as  if  we  were  never  to 
meet  again;— but  she  was  firm,  though  she  wept 


163  »  HELEN    HAL8KT. 

When  she  was  gone,  the  old  man  and  myself 
went  once  more  through  our  calculations.  Every 
step  we  were  to  take  was  to  be  precisely  under 
stood  by  both.  This  done,  I  rode  to  Mowbray's. 
1  had  two  objects  in  this  visit.  1  wished,  in  the 
first  place,  to  be  seen  up  to  the  latest  moment 
preceding  my  flight ;  and  I  was  also  desirous  of 
securing  the  pistols  with  which  I  had  been  prac 
tising.  It  seemed  to  be  reasonable  enough  that, 
on  the  eve  of  starting  on  a  perilous  expedition,  I 
should  demand  the  weapons  which  a  stubborn 
cashier  might  render  necessary.  Nothing  of 
moment  transpired  during  this  visit.  The  Swamp 
was  everywhere  nstir.  Steeds  stood  here  and 
there,  saddled  beneath  the  tree,  waiting  the  rider 
and  the  word  ;  and  there  was  an  air  of  general 
preparation  over  the  encampment,  which  was 
equally  picturesque  and  pleasing.  I  got  the  pistols 
without  difficulty,  and,  hallooing  to  me  on  leav 
ing  him,  Mowbray  reminded  me  to  be  in  readi 
ness  at  dark.  I  did  not  need  his  warning.  I  was 
very  soon  ready  for  the  worst.  Evening  seemed 
very  slow  of  approach,  and  when  twilight  had 
fallen,  which  it  did  at  that  season,  and  in  that 
situation,  in  an  instant,  I  still  folt  that  there  was 
quite  too  much  light.  But  I  dismissed  my  nerv 
ous  doubts  and  made  ready.  The  old  grey  cloak, 
the  slouch  cap,  the  white  cotton  neck  handker 
chief,  were  soon  huddled  on,  and,  with  my  pistols 
in  my  bosom,  and  a  good,  stout,  silver-headed 
hickory  in  my  grasp,  I  went  forth,  as  a  hale,  heavy 


HELEN    HALSEY.  150 

• 

man  of  fifty,  with  just  a  slight  stiffness  in  my 
lower  limbs.  Fortune  favored  me.  I  reached 
the  canoe  in  safety,  and  found  poor  Helen  half 
dead  with  apprehension.  My  corning  filled  her  • 
equally  with  tears  and  strength  She  grasped 
the  paddle  with  as  much  der.fcrity  as  an  Indian 
maiden  would  have  done,  and  as  much  grace  as 
a  princess.  Slight  and  beautiful,  she  was  yet  a 
creature  of  great  resolve,  when  the  moment  came 
of  great  necessity.  This  is  a  striking  character 
istic  of  our  Southern  women,  as  known  from  the 
earliest  pages  of  our  history.  Delicate  and  fee 
ble  as  it  would  seem  in  make,  languid  and  luxuri 
ous  in  disposition,  they  will  yet,  when  aroused  by 
the  pressure  of  extreme  events,  sudden  danger, 
and  painful  necessities,  meet  the  crisis  with  the 
souls  of  men — with  souls,  in  some  respects,  very 
far  superior,  indeed,  to  those  of  the  most  heroic  I , 
men.  Men  struggle  with  the  consciousness  of 
strength,  but  the  struggles  of  women  are  under 
taken  with  an  opposite  conviction.  It  is  with  a  • 
full  knowledge  of  their  weakness  that  they  come 
to  the  encounter  with  those  evils,  to  meet  which 
seems  to  demand  the  utmost  exercise  of  strength. 
On  we  went!  Our  paddles  were  scarcely 
needed.  We  swept  down  with  the  current  as 
fast  as  we  desired,  probably  at  the  rate  of  four 
miles  an  hour.  The  stars  gave  us  abundant  light. 
The  silence  of  night  was  upon  us — how  solemnly. 
Not  a  whisper  broke  from  our  lips,  but,  shifting 
with  the  stream,  and  only  plying  the  paddle  to 


160  HELEN    HALSEY. 

«  I 

keep  us  from  the  banks,  our  little  boat  went  on 
ward  like  a  spiritual  thing,  hardly  making  a 
ripple  on  the  bosom  of  the  water.  Thus  we 
wound,  to  and  fro,  in  and  out,  in  a  progress  that, 
however  rapid,  did  not,  in  half  an  hour,  carry  us 
far  from  our  starting  place.  Such  was  the 
circuitouaness  of  the  creek.  At  length,  Heler 
broke  the  silence  with  a  whisper.  Bending  for 
ward,  she  said  : — - 

"  Here,  Henry, — this  is  Fawn's  Point,  where 
father  said  we  must  stop.  The  cove  is  on  the 
other  side,  where  we  are  to  wait  for  him." 

Our  paddles  dipped  simultaneously,  and,  slight 
ly  changing  her  direction,  the  canoe  rounded  into 
as  beautiful  a  little  cove,  as  ever  harbored  the 
shallop  of  a  Choctaw  princess.  We  run  her  up 
beneath  some  clustering  bays,  and,  withoutjnaking 
fast,  we  waited  in  silence  for  the  signal  of  Bush 
Halsey.  I  never  passed  a  more  tedious  two 
hours  in  my  life.  More  than  once  I  proposed  to 
Helen  to  proceed.  • 

"  Your  father  is  safe,'*  I  said, — '*  he  has  nothing 
to  fear.  It  is  probable  he  finds  it  impossible  to 
reach  us.  We  can  get  on  without  him." 

She  objected,  insisting  that,  as  I  knew  nothing 
of  the  route,  I  must  lose  my  way,  and  probably 
fall  again  into  the  meshes  of  the  confederacy. 
There  was  reason  in  the  objection.*  To  fall 
again  into  their  hands,  after  an  effort  to  escape, 
would  have  been  certain  death.  But  delay  was 
dreadfully  oppressive.  We  were  not  able  to  con- 


HELEN    HALSEY.  161 

verse  for  fear  of  alarming  some  unfriendly  ears. 
We  could  not  move  about  for  fear  of  disturbing 
some  unfriendly  watch,  but,  crouching  in  the  dark, 
we  lay  cramped  up  in  our  little  dug-out,  in  a 
situation  of  constraint  and  impatience  that  would 
have  been  utterly  intolerable,  except  that  Helen 
was  lying  in  my  arms.  More  than  once,  while 
in  this  situation,  we  heard  noises,  or  fancied  them. 
The  bushes  would  stir,  possibly  as  some  wild 
beast  pushed  through  them,  some  bear  or  deer — 
the  dried  leaves  would  crackle  as  beneath  the 
crushing  tread  of  some  slow,  heavy  person  or 
animal ;  and  my  keen,  and,  just  now,  suspicious 
ears,  caught  up  sounds  that  I  could  scarcely  satis 
fy  rnyselt,  or  Helen,  did  not  fall  from  the  lips  of 
some  whispering  watcher. 

At  length  we  heard  a  distinct  alarm  through 
out  the  Swamp.  It  must  be  remembered,  though 
we  had  taken  so  long  a  time  in  reaching  it,  that 
we  were  then  only  about  half  a  mile,  by  an  air 
Lne,  from  our  little  cottage  settlement.  A  bugle 
was  thrice  heard  to  sound, — followed  by  the  cry 
of  a  dozen  beagles,  faintly  swelling  upon  the 
breeze,  or  struggling  into  echoes  from  every  quar 
ter. 

"  The  alarm !"  said  Helen,  starting  from  my 
embrace.  "They  arc  on  the  chase.  The  beagles 
are  in  cry." 

44  Shall  I  not  put  off  now  ?"  I  demanded. 

44  No !  O  no  1  We  are  in  the  dark  here.  Let 
us  wait" 


162  HELEN     IIAL8EY, 

The  sounds  died  away,  and  half  an  hour  more 
elapsed,  without  any  other  alarm,  except  in  a 
single  instance,  when,  it  seemed  to  us,  as  if  a 
beagle  gave  tongue  not  two  hundred  yards  from, 
us,  seemingly  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek. 
At  length  a  faint  rustle  was  heard, — not  more 
distinct  than  had  reached  us  before ;  and, 
when  we  least'  expected  him,  Bush  Halsey  stole 
through  thb  copse  under  the  shadow  of  which  we 
lay.  Pushing  off  as  he  stepped  into  our  little 
vessel,  he  whispered: 

"  We  are  pursued,  closely  I  fear,  and  possibly 
watched.  1  expected  to  have  been  overtaken! 
Why  I  have  not  been,  I  know  not.  They  were 
ahead  of  me  at  one  time,  and  Bud  Halsey  him 
self  upon  the  trail." 

The  words  struck  me  with  instant  apprehen 
sion.  His  own  approach  had  been  made  with  so 
little  noise,  and  I  had  heard  quite  as  much  before 
his  coming,  that  I  began  to  be  filled  with  sur 
mises  and  misgivings.  But  not  a  word  was  said. 
In  another  moment  we  were  out  of  the  cove,  and 
began  to  feel  the  full  power  of  the  current.  Sud 
denly  a  voice  hailed  us  from  the  point  of  land  to 
which  we  were  ncaring. 

"Boat!" 

A  thunderbolt  would  not  have  more  astounded 
us,  falling  at  our  feet  in  the  calm  of  a  winter  day. 

•'  Boat !"  the  cry  was  repeated  from  the  very 
.island  we  had  left.  "  Pull  in  or  we  fire  !"  We  now 
understood  the  whole.  The  pursuers  had  scatter 
ed  themselves  along  the  head  lands,  Having  an 


HELEN    HALSEY.  163 

intimate  knowledge  of  the  route,  they  had  reach 
ed  the  several  points  before  Bush  Halsey,  who 
had  been  greatly  delayed  in  his  progress  to  join 
us  by  the  active  interference  of  his  brother; — and 
that  brother  was  on  our  heels  !  We  had  every 
thing  to  fear.  Again  the  summons,  and  the  dis 
tinct  clicking  of  the  gun-lock  was  significant  of 
the  coolest  determination.  Bush  Halsey  reached 
forward  and  pulled  Helen  down  in  the  boat  tow 
ards  him.  I  was  on  the  forward  seat.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken,  and  our  paddles  dipped  the 
water  simultaneously  and  with  the  strength  of 
sinewH  braced  to  their  utmost  tension  by  the  ne 
cessity  and  danger,  A  voice,  stern,  keen,  supe 
rior  struck  our  ears — a  voice  that  we  too  well 
knew. 

"Bush  Halsey,  be  not  a  fool!  You  cannct 
pass,  and  by  God!  if  you  try  it  we  shoot.  1 
mean  it.  You  know  me !  The  treachery  of  rm 
own  brother  is  his  death." 

We  were  visible  enough,  not  as  individuals,  but 
as  a  whole.  The  boat,  like  some  dark  animal, 
was  gliding  through  the  water.  We  were  rapid 
ly  passing  our  enemies.  Bush  Halsey  whispered 
me: — 

**  But  a  few  yards  will  save  us.  That  point, 
if  we  round  it,  will  give  us  shelter.  A  stout  pull, 
— now  P 

A  shot  whistled  before  me — perhaps,  meant  as 
a  warning, — an  exhortation  to  provoke  no  farther 
the  wrath  of  him  by  whom  we  were  threatened. 
At  the  sound,  Helen  started  up  in  terror,  and 


164  HELEN  HAL8J5T. 

stretched  her  hands  towards  me,  and,  simulta 
neously  with  this  movement,  we  received  a  vol 
ley.  I  felt  a  slight  pricking  sensation  in  my  left 
arm,  but  forgot  it  all,  as  a  half-suppressed  scream 
from  Helen  betrayed  either  her  apprehensions  or 
her  hurt.  We  rounded  the  point  at  the  same  in 
stant,  and  were  thus  safe  for  the  moment  from 
our  enemies.  I  turned  to  Helen,  who  lay,  as  be 
fore,  backward,  in  the  arms  of  her  father. 

"  Helen  1"  I  said,  with  a  tear,  which  I  could 
not  subdue*  "  Helen  !'* 

She  answered  with  a  moan. 

"  Helen  !"  said  the  father,  huskily,  as  he  listen 
ed.  "  Helen,  my  child,  you  arc  not  hurt." 

"  I  am,— -father — Henry.'* 

"  God ! — it  is  not — cannot  be  true." 

She  sank  the  next  instant,  with  limbs  relaxed 
and  nerveless,  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
Bush  Halsey  and  myself  turned  to  her  at  the 
same  moment.  She  had  Bvvooned-^we  sprinkled 
h».r  with  water,  but  wo  could  do  nothing  for  her 
where  we  were*  While  wo  busied  ourselves 
about  her,  the  boat  grounded.  We  lay  on  a 
muddy  ledge,  which  skirted  an  island  thickry  set 
with  fresh  trees. 

"  It  is  well,  Henry.  Wo  can  take  her  ashoro 
here.  I  know  the  place.  1  think  we  are  safe/* 

We  landed  in  silence,  the  old  man  persisting 
in  bearing  Helen  on  his  own  shoulder  to  the  shore. 
She  had  come  out  of  her  swpon,  and  now  and 
then  she  moaned,  and  strove  to  speak. 


HELEN    IIAL8EY.  165 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

WE  were  very  soon  able  to  read  her  destiny. 
We  carried  her  on  shore  to  die  !  Her  career  of 
youth  and  happiness  was  short  indeed.  The 
shot  was  in  her  breast  and  fatal.  We  spread  a 
couch  for  her  of  leaves  and  bushes,  beneath  the 
shelter  of  a  close  copse  of  evergreens,  and  cover 
ed  her  with  the  grey  overcoat  which  had  dis* 
guised  me  in  my  flight.  We  did  not  need  to  tell 
her  ihat  we  had  no  hope.  She  felt  by  certain 
instincts  that  we  should  have  none, 

"  Henry,  I  am  dying,"  she  said  to  me,  as  her 
father  wandered  off,  I  know  not  what  I  said  in 
reply  ; — something,  perhaps,  which  I  meant  to  bo 
consolatory, — some  one  of  those  idle  common 
places,  in  which  the  bystander  would  deceive 
others,  when  he  cannot  deceive  himself, 

"  No !"  she  continued  ;  •*  I  have  no  hope  but 
that  we  shall  meet  again.  That  is  my  hope  and 
my  prayer.  Oh !  my  Henry,  pray  for  it, — pray 
for  me !  It  is  not  so  hard  to  die  with  such  a 
hope, — but  I  fear,  Henry,  I  tremble.  I  am  not, 
I  have  not  been  good  enough  to  die — I  lored  the 
world  too  much — I  loved  you  too  much,  rr,y 
Henry.  God  forgive  me, — but  was  not  this  the 
punishment?  It  was  a  short-lived  rapture,  my 
Henry, — Oh  1  how  very  short  P 


100  HELEN  HALSIY. 

I  buried  my  lace  in  the  leaves.    I  could  not 
speak — nay,  I  could  not  weep.    The  fountain  of 
tears  seemed  utterly  dry.    The  old  man  returned 
and  kneeled  beside  her  with  me.  JShe  was  sink 
ing  into  stupor,  with  occasional  awakenings — • 
awakenings  of  a  higher  and  more  spiritual  life. 
She  spoke  of  things,  to  us,  as  it  seemed,  wildly, 
but  no  doubt  they  had  meaning  for  finer  senses. 
How  slowly,  how  sadly  went  that  night  away. 
It  was  a  pure  and  gentle  night— blessed  with 
many  stars,  that  kept  trooping  overhead  in  noise 
less  march,  and  looking  down  stealthily  above  us 
with  their  strange  sad  eyes.     There  was  a  slight 
breeze,  that  swayed  the  trees  around  us  with  a 
not  unpleasant  and  spiritual  murmur ;   and  the 
chafing  of  the  creek  upon  the  little  dark  beach, 
along  whose  slippery  edges  we  had  struggled  with 
our  precious  burthen,  mingled  a  most  unseemly 
but  faint  music  with  the  strain.     I  remained  close 
beside  her  all   the  night,  but  she  ceased  after 
awhile  to  be  conscious  of  my  presence.     She  had 
sunk  into  a  condition  something  like  sleep.     To 
wards  daylight  she  roused  herself. 

"  Where  are  you,  Henry  ?  I  see  you  not.  I 
feel  much  better, — but  I  do  not  see  you.  Come 
to  me." 

"  I  am  here,  dear  Helen.** 

"  Why  do  I  not  see  you,  then  ?* 

"  Your  hands  are  in  mine — it  is  my  lip  that  is 
pressing  on  your  cheek." 

"  Something  is  over  my  eyes — father, — Henry 


11ELLX    HAL9GY.  167 

— take  the  cloak  from  my  face  that  I  may  see 
you.     I  am  better  now  !" 

And  so  speaking  she  died  !  I  do  think  she  was 
better  then — better  then,  and  blessed !  She  was 
certainly  with  God ! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

COLDLY  the  day  dawned  upon  us,  and  with  an 
aspect  of  peculiar  desolation.  The  inanimate 
form  of  Helen  was  stijl  clasped  in  my  close  cm- 
brace.  The  old  man  spoke. 

44  We  arc  alone,  my  son  !  We  arc  alone." 
Oh !  how  true,  how  touching  were  his  words. 
What  a  change  had  the  morning  brought  us — 
what  a  change  from  day  to  night.  But  a  few 
hours  ago,  and  I  was  all  buoyancy — nay,  in  the 
impetuosity  of  my  mood, — in  my  eagerness  to  es 
cape  from  the  duresse  in  which  I  was  detained, 
had  I  not  calmly  contemplated  flight,  leaving  it 
to  a  doubtful  chance  whether  I  should  ever  meet 
with  her  again.  Now  that  it  was  very  certain 
that  we  were  separated — separated  forever  in 
life,  and  O!  how  completely, — I  could  not  well 
comprehend  how  life  was  to  be  sustained  !  She 
had  become  a  part  of  my  life;  torn  from  me,  I 
began  to  realize  the  vague  sensations  of  a  heart 


168  BZ&EN    HAL8EY. 

from  which  certain  vital  sources  of  pulsation  arfe 
suddenly  withdrawn.  Such  a  chili  as  remains- 
such  a  tremulous  uncertainty  of  sensation.  But 
one  seldom  dreams  long  over  the  dead.  Death 
is  among  the  most  certain  of  the  things  of  life.  It 
is  no  illusion.  It  is  a  terrible  reality.  Its  touch 
palsies, — its  aspect  chills— its  stony  glare  rebukes, 
and  mocks,  and  warns.  Icy  lips ! — I  pressed  them 
—but  it  was  with  the  feeling  of  one  who  sought 
for  pain  and  mortification.  Stony  eyes!  I  gazed 
in  them,  as  one  would  ga^e  within  his  own  allot 
ted  sepulchre.  The  future  as  well  as  the  past, 
lay  before  'me  in  the  present.  The  unforgotten 
past,  the  undeveloped  future.  Awful  volume! — * 
my  heart  was  too  full  to  rpad  it.  I  shrunk  from 
its  dreary,  dreamy  lessons  in  dismay.  I  shrunk 
into  myself— into  my  own  littleness ;  and,  assured 
of  the  great  loss  which  I  had  just  sustained,  re 
membered  with  a  glow  of  shame,  upon  what 
small  game  my  previous  thoughts  had  been  set. 
How  mean  and  petty  were  the  objects  of  my 
eager  thirst.  How  contracted,  limited  and  worth 
less  tire  poor  things  of  the  finite  upon  which  I 
had  set  my  heart.  What  a  precious  thing  is  the 
love  of  a  pure  heart,  when  it  is  lost  to  us  forever  ! 
But  what  were  my  woes  to  his,  that  desolate 
old  father  ?  What  are  the  sorrows  of  youth,  at 
the  worst,  to  those  of  age  ?  Youth  has  so  many 
resources  in  youth  itself.  The  soul  is  still  active 
and  impetuous — the  blood  still  ready  for  new 
encounters,  nay,  desiring  them  ;  and  every  pulse 


HELEN    BALSE7.  169 

and  emotion  vibrates  with  a  vitality  which  soon 
provides  recompense  for  every  failure  and  morti 
fication.  The  heart  still  sends  forth  new  tendrils 
in  place  of  those  which  have  been  lopt  a'way,  or 
are  withered,  and  it  is  seldom  indeed  that  they 
do  not  attach  themselves  to  other  objects,  in  the 
absence  of  the  lost,  which  partly,  or  perhaps 
wholly,  supply  their  deficiencies.  But  the  heart . 
of  the  old  man,  like  the  aged  plant,  has  no  such  ^ 
resources — puts  forth  no  new  tendrils.  Rend  the 
branches — sunder  the  close  clinging  stems,  and 
the  hurt  penetrates  to  the  core,  and  fixes  there. 
The  worm  follows  and  decay.  The  heart  is 
eaten  out  and  gone,  though  a  few  fresh  leaves,  a 
little  coronal  of  green,  may  yet  be  seen  upon  its 
mossy  top,  in  sign  rather  of  the  immortal  princi 
ple  of  life  than  of  the  tree  that  lived.  The  sad 
dest  sight  in  nature  is  that  of  age  tottering  to  the 
grave,  unsupported  by  the  dutiful  arms  of  youth. 
How  sterile  is  such  a  life — lingering  on  after  the 
loss  of  the  beloved  ones — looking  on  their  tombs, 
and  until  it  forgets  its  own.  I  thought,  even  at 
that  moment,  of  these  things,  as  I  thought  of 
Helen's  father.  And  yet,  he  looked  upon  the  in 
animate  form  with  a  strange  and  most  unnatural 
calmness.  He  had  loved  her  with  a  love  surpass 
ing  the  love  of  woman.  He  had  lost  her,  at  the 
moment  when  such  a  loss  was  least  to  be  feared ; 
— and,  by  what  a  sudden  stroke !  It  may  be  he 
was  stunned — that,  like  myself,  he  did  not  realise 
our  privation  so  completely  as  I,  at  least,  was  yet 
8 


170  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

destined  to  do.    But  no !  his  eye  was  filled  with 
as  much  intelligence  as  calm.    Whence  did  he 
derive  a  consolation,  of  which  I  had  nothing  ?    I 
have  not  scad  before  that  he  was  a  religious  man 
•—prayerful,  truly  devout.     Such  an  assurance 
may  amuse  the  thoughtless.     Piety  in  the  abode 
of  outlaws  !     Prayer,  religion,  where  the  hourly 
practice  is  crime !     But,  it  was  nevertheless  true. 
Bush  Halsey  was  a  weak  man — it  was  an  error 
in  him  to  continue  in  the  Swamp,  witnessing  what 
he  had  not  power  to  prevent, — but  his  instincts 
were  just — his  heart  w:as  in  the  right  place,  and 
he  kept  his  hands  clean  from  the  sins  in  which  all 
around  him,  but  his  dear  child,  wallowed  freely. 
At  this  hour,  struggling,  as  he  did,  against  his 
loss,  the  calm  upon  his  face  was  no  bad  sign  of 
that  within  his  soul.    It  was  the  calm  derived 
from  resignation — a  calm  which  nothing  else  can 
give  j  and,  sitting  beside  the  body  of  the  beloved, 
he  at  the  foot,  and  I  supporting  the  precious  head, 
with  all  its  weight  of  drooping  ringlets — he  con 
versed  of  death — its  mystery- — its  sublimity— its 
repose,     Philosophy,  in  its  cold  and  questioning 
mood,  would  have  mocked  at  such  discourse  as 
that  in  which  we  dwelt.     It  was  either  beyond 
or  below  philosophy, — for,  in  our  belief  of  the 
spiritual  world,  we  were  both  children.     But  the 
philosophy  of  the  worlding  will  nevor  bring  to 
any  definite  knowledge  on  the  subject  either  of 
death  or  life.     Its  beginning  and  ending  recog 
nizes  these  conditions,  but  nothing  more.     The 


HELEN    HALSEV.  171 

teaching  which  can  influence  us  any  farther,  must 
Fe  addressed  to  the  heart — to  that  faith  which 
seems  to  me  equally  Horn  of  o'ur  instincts  and 
some  blessed  sympathetic  influence  which  favors 
o'ur  aspiration  and  wishes  from  without.  I  be- 
^teyeviif  we  are  earnest  in  the  call,  we  may  evoke 
spirits  now,  us  in  those  days  when  angels  walked 
among  men.  They  walk  among  us  now,  as  they 
did  in  the  days  of  the  patriarch : — 

"  Good  spirits  are  beside  us  night  and  day  !" 

Good  spirits  are  beside-  us.  Helen,  Oh  !  Helen, 
wert  thou  not  beside  us,  on  that  day,  when  thy 
freed  spirit — violently  freed — regained  its  first 
iife,  but  hung,  hovering,  on  suspended  wing,  and 
sanctified  to  our  souls  the  precious  hour  that  fol 
lowed  !  Else,  how  was  it  that,  lonely  as  we 
were,  there  was  such  a  flood  of  serenity  around 
us  !  Thou  wert  with  us,  my  Helen — thy  spirit 
was  upon  the  scene,  and  in  our  hearts, — and  the 
skies  smiled  though  we  were  sad, — and  we  both 
felt,  that  in  love  we  were  not  unremembered,  and 
that  if  God  hud  ravished  the  blessed  spirit,  from 
the  frail  tabernacle  in  which  it  had  first  found  its 
dwelling,  it  had  not  been  entirely  taken  from  the 
world  of  which  we  were  a  part.  We  still  breath 
ed  an  atmosphere  in  which  floated  ever  the  pure 
soul  of  the  creature  whom  we  loved. 

"  My  son,"  $a:d  the  old  man, — "  Henry !— you 
.must  leave  tkis  place.  It  is  not  for  you  a  place 
of  safety.  It  is  for  her.  It  will  be  for  me.  But 


173  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

you  will  be  pursubd.    You  must  contrive  your 
flight  this  very  day." 

"  What  mean  you,  Sir  ?  Am  I  to  go  alone  ?  Do 
you  not  go  with  me, — and  these  precious  re 
mains — shall  they  not  go  with  us  until  we  can 
find  consecrated  ground?'* 

"All  earth  is  consecrated  ground.  God  has 
made  it  all.  The  uses  to  which  we  put  the  earth 
consecrates  it.  What  place  of  city  sepulchre  is 
more  pure  than  this  ?  Tiie  islet  is  very  lovely  to 
the  eye.  Trees  and  shrubs  keep  it  ever  green. 
The  waters  which  bathe  it  on  every  side,  keep  it 
ever  pure.  Birds  live  here  and  sing  throughout 
the  year.  Man  does  not  vex  the  spot  with  his 
strifes  and  follies.  Can  there  be  a  fitter  place 
for  the  grave  of  my  child,  who  was  so  pure  and 
so  lovely  ?  No,  Henry — it  is  here  that  we  must 
make  her  grave." 

We  searched  out  a  spot  for  the  purpose.  The 
island  was  generally  a  flat,  but  in  the  centre  there 
was  a  slight  elevation,  crowned  by  a  clump  of 
gigantic  cotton-wood  trees.  The  shade  was 
equally  sweet  and  sepulchral.  There  was  a 
copse  of  thick  vines  and  shrubs  which  partially 
enclosejd  it,  and  which  we  knew  would  be  cover 
ed  in  the  spring  with  the  honeysuckle,  the  jessa 
mine,  and  other  sweet-scented  flowers.  Here 
then  we  brought  her.  Here,  with  the  paddles  of 
our  canoe,  we  scooped  out  a  narrow  grave,  and 
making  a  bed  of  leaves,  we  wrapped  her  in  the 
thick  grey  close-bodied  coat  of  her  father,  and 


HELEN    HALSET.  173 

laid  her  down  to  her  eternal  rest.  Sweet  form, 
so  dear  to  me,  shut  in  forever  from  my  sight ! 
Sweet  spirit,  so  blessing,  still  hovering  around 
my  own! — my  only  prayers  were  my  pangs.  I 
could  not  shovel  in  the  earth  upon  her — I  did  not 
— the  old  man  did  it  all.  How  could  I  cast  the 
earth  upon  the  white  unprotected  limbs,  which, 
but  a  few  hours  -  ago,  had  embraced  me  with  a 
passion  so  tender  and  so  true. 

We  sat  beside  the  grave  for  hours  after,  but 
with  little  speech  from  either.  What  was  spoken 
related  to  the-  solemn  subjects  upon  which  the 
old  man  had  already  spoken — life  and  death! 
These  are  the  great  engrossing  subjects.  Strange ! 
how  people  strive  to  evade  them.  How  the 
shudder  which  follows  the  first  thought  of  death, 
makes  them  recoil  from  the  second,  as  if  it 
were  a  subject  which  we  might  put  by  at  will- 
as  if  it  were  not,  in  fact,  the  only  thing  in  life 
which  is  inevitable.  The  first  shudder  over,  the 
thought  of  death  is  morally  wholesome.  We 
should  think  of  it  daily,  not  only  of  its  inevitable- 
ness,  but  as  of  a  thing,  the  character  of  which  is 
to  be  mainly  influenced  by  our  daily  actions. 
Could  we  think  thus,  religion  were  easy — it  were 
the  next  step  in  the  simple  process  of  bringing 
back  the  stray  sheep  to  the  Good  Snepherd. 


174  HELEN    HALS  BY. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IT  was  sunset.  To  this  hour  we  had  lingered 
by  the  little  hillock,  which  had  shut  in  from  our 
eyes  forev(er,  the  thing  that  was  so  precious  in 
our  sight.  I  had  given  myself  up  to  the  feeling 
of  desolation  which  took  possession  of  me.  I  lay* 
beside  the  grave,  my  fingers  penetrated  the  soft 
mould,  which  was  soon  to  become  enriched  by 
hers.  My  brow  lay  upon  the  damp  earth.  A 
sort  of  stupor  seemed  to  overcome  me.  But  the 
voice  of  the  old  man  aroused  me  to  my  duties. 

'* Henry,  my  son!  It  is  time  to  depart.  Far 
ther  delay  may  endanger  your  safety.  Come ! 
It  needs  not  that  we  should  remain  above  the 
grave  to  mourn.  The  sorrow  of  the  living  at 
tends  him  and  cannot  be  shut  out  Happy,  in 
deed,  are  we,— did  we  but  know  it — that  this  is 
the  case*  How  soon  Would  the  feeling  of  our 
griefs,  did  we  not  strive  so  recklessly  to  get  rid 
of  them,  bring  us  that  perfect  peace  of  the  regen 
erated  soul,  brought  home  to  God,  which  we  all 
so  much  require.  We  must  go,  my  son— you 
will  not  forget  1" 

"  Forget,  my  father, — no  !  She  was  too  pre 
cious  for  that.  Never  1  Never !" 

MYet  the  memory  of  the  perished  dear  one 
should  be  a  sweet,  not  a  distressing  memory.  It 


HELEN    HALSEV,  .  175 

should  strengthen  our  hearts,  while  it  subdues 
our  passions.  Suffering  is  meant  for  this.  We 
should  grow  strong  in  the  prosecution  of  those 
duties  which  are  set  for  us  as  tasks — duties 
whether  of  endurance  or  of  performance, — the 
reward  of  which,  when  done,  is  life  eternal  in 
communion  with  the  beloved  ones  !  Fortunately 
for  me,  my  son,  the  duties  before  me  are  not  of 
long  duration.  I  shall  soon  meet  with  my  inno 
cent  child.  I  shall  see  her  first !" 

We  took  our  way  to  the  boat  in  silence.  There 
we  found  a  basket  which  Helen  had  brought  with 
her,  and  which  I  had  not  seen  before.  The  pro 
vident  girl  had  filled  it  with  cakes,  which  she  had 
prepared  against  our  journey.  We  had  not  eaten 
all  the  day, — for  that  matter,  I  had  scarcely  eaten 
anything  the  day  before.  I  had  no  appetite.  I 
could  not  partake  of  the  cake^  of  Helen — nay, 
the  basket  in  my  eyes  gave  me  a  painful  feeling. 
I  thought  of  her  thoughts,  her  hopes  and  feelings, 
as  she  prepared  these  little  necessaries! — how 
sweet  would  have  been  our  feast  together,  glid 
ing  down,  night  and  noon-day,  along  that  lonely 
river.  Now  !  Oh !  that  now ! — I  pushed  the 
basket  from  my  sight. 

The  old  man  knew  the  river  well.  We  glided 
by  raft  and  snag  and  sawyer  in  perfect  safety. 
Night  came  on,  and  we  were  once  more  silent 
voyagers  by  the  dim  light  of  the  stars, — those 
ever-twiring  ministers  of  night,  those  numerous 
herds  of  eyes,  that  spread  themselves  out  or  shrink 


170  HELEN    HAL8EY 

and  cover  themselves  within  her  cloudy  fold,  at 
the  slightest  symptoms  of  her  anger.    I  leaned 
back  and  watched  them,  and  wept  silently  be 
neath  their  glance*     How  much  is  the  love  of  the 
young  heart  associated  with,  and  awakened  by, 
those  uncertain  periods  of  time,  when  twilight* 
the  moon  or  the  stars,  are  in  the  ascendant.    The 
affections  do  not  seem  to  flourish  in  the  noon-day. 
There  is  something  in  the  intense  passionatencss 
of  the  sun's  glare,  that  seems  to  oflbnd  the  dtlica- 
cy  of  youthful  sentiment.    But  the  fainter  light, 
the  subdued  beauties  of  evening  and  night,  the 
pale,  insinuating  charms  of  moon  and  stars, — win 
their  way  to  the  young  affections,  without  start 
ling,  and  link  themselves  to  all  their  dearest  emo 
tions.    Looking  up  to  those  bright,  pale  watchers, 
I  could  not  well  believe  that  I  was  alone.     1 
sometimes  fancied  that  two  of  them,  looking  more 
like  eyes  than  stars,  drew  nigher  to  me;  arid,  at 
such  moments,  the  breeze,  which  came  from  the 
Woods  along  the  waters,  seemed  to  whisper  in  the 
Very  accents  of  a  bdovcd  one.     I  was  young, — 1 
could  Htilt  dream— hut  ihut  poor  old  man—who 
btill  plied  h'.M  puddle,  now  right  and  now  left,  with 
a  vigor  of  stroke  that  wus  really  wonderful— ho 
had  long  since  ceased  to  dream  1 

I  offered  to  relieve  him  of  his  labor,  but  ho 
would  not.     Indeed,  as  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
river,  and  as  our  dug-out  depended  for  its  direc 
tion  upon  the  paddle,  not  upon  the  tiller — for  it  ' 
had  none — any  attempt  of   mine    would,  in  all 


HELEN    HALSEY.  177 

probability,  during  the  night,  have  ended  In  mis 
chief.  Thus  we  went — both  silent — both  absorb 
ed  in  thoughts,  which,  as  we  mutually  understoo.d 
them,  called  /or  no  utterance.  Sometimes  the 
silence  was  broken  by  the  howl  of  the  wolf,  the 
scream  of  the  eagle,  or  the  meloncholy  hooting 
of  the  owl,  from  one  or  other  of  the  shores  be 
tween  which  we  stole,  like  some  fairy  vessel. 
At  other  times  we  could  catch  a  moaning  sound 
from  the  woods,  like  the  far  cry  of  one  in  distress, 
which  was  yet  only  the  effect  of  the  wind,  rush 
ing  in  currents  through  unlooked-for  openings  of 
cane,  by  which,  in  some  places,  the  banks  were 
lined — regions  of  the  bear,  presenting  at  times, 
along  the  shore,  a  dense  barrier,  fully  a  mile  in 
depth.  How  melancholy  sweet  are  thy  numerous 
voices,  oh,  solemn  and  mysterious  night ! 

I  slept !,  How  long  I  know  not,  but  I  was 
wakened  by  the  boat  striking  against  the  shore. 
I  started  and  looked  up.  The  old  man  was  stand 
ing  on  the  land,  upon  which  he  had  already  drawn 
one  half  of  the  canoe. 

44  Where  are  we,  sir  T  I  asked.  "  What  time 
is  it  r 

44  It  is  nearly  daylight" 

44 1  have  slept,  then  ?" 

44  Yes, — very  soundly !  You  needed  it,  my 
son." 

44 But  you,  sir?" 

44  Ah !  I  need  very  little,— old  people  need  less 
than  young.  The  work  of  renovation  is  not  so 

necessary  in  them.* 

s* 


178  nr.LE*  HALSEY. 

i 

"  Do  you  know  where  we  are,  sir  ?M 
"  I  think  I  do  ;  but  I  may  have  erred  in  my 
calculations,  as  I  was  anxious  not  to  go  too  far. 
Wo  arc,  I  think,  about  a  mile  above  Baker's 
Landing.  There  is  u  saw-mill  somewhere  about, 
which  wo  shall  probably  HOC  by  daylight.  I  wait 
for  that,  to  be  certain.  Here  begin  the  settle 
ments,  and  here  I  propose  to  leave  you." 

•'  How,  sir,  leave  me  ?  Will  you  not  go  with 
me,  and  live  with  me — my  father,  mother,  all, 
will  be  glud  to  have  you  ?" 

"  No !  Henry,  I  return  to  the  Swamp." 
"  Return  !     Return  to  the  Swamp  ?" 
"  Yes  1     I  have  nothing  now  to  take  me  into 
the  world — much   to  keep  me  out  of  it — and 
here  r 

I  strove  vainly  to  shako  his  determination,  and 
finally  ceased  to  attempt  it.  I  could  not  but 
think  ho  was  right.  What  had  he  to  'do  in  the 
world— what  was  the  world  to  him— or  he  to 
it  ?  His  world  wos  in  the  forest,  there,  with  his 
child.  At  thnt  moment,  1  half  believed  that  my 
world  was  thurc  uluo.  Certainly,  the  more  I 
thought  of  leaving  it  forever,  the  more  difficult  it 
became  to  subdue  my  emotions, 

Day  at  length  dawned  upon  us.  The  saw-mill 
was  in  sight,  and  a  cluster  of  cabins  running 
down  to  the  very  brink  of  the  stream.  The  old 
man  pointed  them  out,  arid,  taking  from  h'.s  breast 
a  purse  of  half-eagles,  forced  it  into  rny  hand.  I 
did  not  scruple  at  receiving  it»  I  had  no  money. , 
What  I  had  when  I  came  into  the  Swamp,  had 


HELEN    HALSEY.  179 

been  taken  from  me,  and  never  returned,  when 
the  myrmidons  of  Bud  Halsey  took  me  into  cus 
tody. 

"  With  this,  Henry,  you  can  easily  procure  a 
good  horse  at  any  of  the  settlements  along  the 
river — most  probably  at  this.  There,  God  bless 
you,  my  son — go — go,  and  be  happy  P 

We  parted — good  old  man — but  not  without  a 
hope, — and  not  forever  1 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I  SOON  found  my  way  to  the  saw-mill  settle 
ment,  where  I  accounted  for  my  appearance  by 
representing  myself  as  left  by  a  raft,  having 
wandered  off  from  one  of  the  landings  into  the 
Swamp.  The  story  was  plausible  enough,  and 
occasioned  no  remark.  I  had  rather  more  diffi 
culty  in  getting  a  horse  than  Bush  Halsey  had 
imagined,  and  was  content  to  take  an  old  hack 
at  forty  dollars,  being,  indeed,  the  only  tolerable 
animal  to  be  had.  I  was  enough  of  a  jockey  to 
see  that  the  creature  had  been  once  badly  found 
ered,  nor  was  this  denied  by  the  owner.  His 
hoofs  were  scaled,  and  worn  low,  and  he  walked 
tenderly,  as  if  the  quick  was  ailing.  But  it  was 
Hobson's  choice  with  me,  and  I  did  not  look 


180  HELEN'    HALflEY. 

I 

closely  to  his  infirmities.  I  took  for  granted  that 
he  was  good  for  six  days  travel,  and  after  that  he 
might  be  crow's  meat  for  what  1  cared.  Paying 
for  him,  I  found  myself  with  eight  half-eagles, 
and  some  small  change— more  than  enough  to 
meet  my  wayside  exigencies  ;  and,  with  a  last 
look  upon  the  river  whose  contiguous  streams 
had  been  of  such  fatal  interest  to  me,  I  dashed  up 
the  narrow  Indian  trail  which,  as  I  was  instructed, 
would  conduct  mo  into  the  main  track  leading 
homeward.  That  day  I  rode  forty  miles,  and 
slept  at  the  \vig\yam  of  a  mulatto,  who  gave  his 
wife — an  Indian  woman — a  sound  drubbing  in 
my  very  sight,  and  in  spite  of  all  my  expostula 
tions.  I  believe  the  only  offence  on  her  part 
was  that  she  had  suffered  the  fish  to  burn,  which 
his  imperial  highness  had  caught  for  his  own, 
and  which  furnished  a  very  sorry  portion  of 
my  supper.  She  probably  deserved  all  that 
she  got — was  a  sulky  hag,  of  fierce,  black, 
revengeful  aspect,  who,  in  all  probability  will 
have  a  day  of  recknoing  with  him  on  this  very* 
account.  My  interposition  saved  her  from  a  part 
of  the  flogging — at  all  events,  such  was  his  assu 
rance  to  me  while  it  was  in  progress ;  and  with 
this  I  had  to  be  satisfied. 

The  next  day  I  started  with  the  dawn,  paying 
five  dollars  for  my  night's  lodging,  my  own,  and 
my  horse's  supper,  I  soon  discovered,  from  the 
lank  sides  of  my  horse,  that  I  had  paid  for  him 
unnecessarily.  Yet  had  I  gone  into  the  stable 


HELEN    HALSEY.  181 

myself,  and  seen  counted  out  to  him  thirty  good 
ears  of  corn  ; — this  too,  after  he  had  been  nibbling 
for  half  an  hour  on  the  blades.  But  the  corn  had 
been  withdrawn  from  the  trough  after  I  had  re 
tired.  The  poor  animal  was  evidently  suffering 
from  starvation.  He  bore  me  feebly,  and  with 
tottering  footsteps.  At  noon  I  stopped  on  the 
edge  of  a  field  prairie,  where  the  grass  was  tole 
rably  good,  and  continued  for  an  hour  to  'chew 
the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy/  while  he  di 
gested  more  stable  material.  This  freshened  him 
a  little,  and  at  close  of  day,  I  reached  the  hovel 
of  a  Choctaw,  who,  in  answer  to  my  first  enquiry, 
replied : 

"  Yaow ! — hab  'nough  co'n — 'nough  fodder. — 
Plenty  co'n — plenty  fodder  !  Man  eat — hoss  eat 
— plenty  co'n,  'nough  co'n — too  much  co'n — too 
much  fodder !" 

The  assurances  were  thick  and  substantial,  and 
my  Choctaw  Boniface  promised  to  be  a  landlord 
after  the  most  liberal  fashion.  He  did  not  misre 
present  his  corn  crib:  it  was  ample.  He  took 
me  to  see  it,  and  then  conducted  me  to  his  bear- 
pen,  where  he  had  a  two-year-old  Bruin  of  the 
brownest  complexion,  taming  for  a  pet,  which  he 
was  very  anxious  to  sell  me  at  seven  dollars,  to 
carry  home  to  my  squaw.  The  quizzical  chuckle 
and  wink  of  the  good-natured  fellow,  as  he  named 
the  squaw,  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes.  He 
evidently  regarded  me  as  a  boy  who  had  as  yet 
no  thought  of  a  wife.  He  had  no  wife,  but  he 


182  HELXN    HALSEY. 

fondled  his  bear  quite  as  much  as  if  it  were  one, 
—probably  much    more  than  he  would  have 
fondled  the  loveliest  squaw  that  he  could  have 
found  in  the  whole  bosom  of  his  tribe.     This 
fellow  did  not  spare  his  corn  in  my  case,  but 
gave  me  an  ample  supply  of  bread  stuffs  for 
supper, — together  with  some  well  broiled  slices 
of  smokedj  venison,  of  which  his  cabin  had  a 
tolerable  supply.    He  was  no  doubt  an  active 
hunter,  when  sober.     But  the  signs  of  whiskey- 
worship  were  sufficiently  apparent  in  his  face, 
if  not  in  his  cabin*     His  nose  had  the  sign  manual 
of  strong  drink,  in  the  largest  carbuncles  that 
human  nose  ever  maintained — a  congeries  of  little 
red  hillocks  that  half  reminded  me  of  a  settlement 
of  marmozets,  or  prairie  dogs.     Unfortunately 
for  me,  his  liberality  in  the  matter  of  corn,  unlike 
that  of  my  mulatto  host  of  the  night  before,  was 
as  much  shown  to  my  horse  as  to  myself.    In 
looking  at  the  corn  crib  nnd  the  bear,  1  allowed 
myself  to  be  diverted  from  tho  condition  of  the 
animal,  and  the  Indian  improvidently  gave  him 
his  corn  nnd  fodder  together.     The  half-starved 
animal  naturally  fastened  upon  the  corn  and  sur- 
feited  himself,  and  when,  at  dawn,  the  following 
morning,  I  prepared  to  mount  him,  I  found  him 
dead-foundered,  and  barely  able  to  walk.    Grieved 
at  the  event,  vexed  with  myself  for  my  own  neg 
lect,  I  was  yet  compelled  to  push  forward  ;  nnd, 
paying  my  Choctaw  his  fare,  which  called  for 
another  of  my  gold  pieces,  I  set  forward — think- 


HELEN    HALSEY.  183 

ing  it  probable  that,  as  the  animal  warmed  with 
walking,  the  stillness  would  diminish  or  disappear. 
And  so  it  did  ;  but  not  sufficiently  to  satisfy  me, 
or  relieve  my  anxiety  and  impatience  ;  and,  after 
dragging  along  a*  the  slow  pace  of  three  miles 
an  hour,  for  seven  hours,  I  concluded  to  abandon 
the  miserable  animal,  and  pursue  the  rest  of  my 
journey,  or  until  I  could  procure  another  beast, 
on  foot.  There  was  a  slight  rising  of  the  country 
on  my  left  hand,  which  appeared  covered  with  a 
pretty  thick  growth  of  grass, — and  into  this  I 
rode  him.  The  .woods  gave  him  a  very  good 
shelter,  and  the  grass  would  sustain  life  until  he 
might  be  picked  up  by  some  traveller  or  neigh 
bor.  At  all  events,  I  was  resolved  not  to  burden 
myself  any  longer  with  the  care  of  a  beast  whose 
limbs  could  scarcely  support  his  own  frame,  to 
say  nothing  of  mine.  Asceilding  the  hill,  1  found 
a  beautiful  hollow,  where  the  grass,  protected 
from  the  sharper  winds  of  winter,  was  still  luxu 
riant  and  tender.  Here  I  stripped  him,  and,  after 
some  search,  having  found  a  hollow  gum  of  con 
siderable  size,  I  hid  away  the  saddle  and  bridle, 
for  future  use,  if  necessary.  I  had  scarcely  done 
this,  and  set  the  poor  creature  free,  before  I  heard 
the  tramping  of  horses  from  above.  Here,  then, 
was  a  prospect  of  succor  and  assistance,  much 
sooner  than  I  could  have  hoped  for  it.  I  hurried 
immediately  towards  the  road-side,  from  which  I 
had  been  removed  about  an  hundred  yards,  and 
w  hen  I  reached  the  edge  of  the  hill  which  looked 


184  HE!, EN    RAL8CY* 

down  upon  the  road,— from  which  1  was  effect 
ually  screened  by  a  thick  undergrowth  by  which 
it  was  edged,— I  was  about  to  halloo  and  spring 
forward,  when  a  sudden  suggestion  of  prudence 
persuaded  me  to  stop  and  first  reconnoitre.     Ac 
cordingly,  stooping  down,  I  crawled  forward  on 
hands  and  knees  until  I  reached  the  edge  of  the 
hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  road  ran,  and,  at  this 
very  moment,  the  travellers  whom  I  had  heard 
drew  up  below.     It  was  well  that  I  adopted  these 
precautions,     The  very  next  moment,  my  ears 
were  struck  by  the  sounds  of!   a  voice  which 
grated  harshly  upon  my  ears,  as  that    of  my 
worst  enemy.    I  felt  a  shuddering  horror  through 
my  whole  frame.      Cautiously,  I    divided  the 
bushes  with  my  hand,  and  looked  below;  and 
there,  sure  enough,  stood  Bud  Halscy,  beside  his 
horse,  from  which  he  was  about  to  lift  the  saddle 
bags,    His  back  was  to  me,  but  a  glance  sufficed 
to  show  me  that  he  was  the  man.     I  involuntarily 
felt  in  my  breast  for  my  pistols.     They  were  safe. 
They  were  well  loaded,  and  my  nerves,  d'gquiet* 
ed  for  an  instant,  were  again  firm,     I  felt  that  it 
would  be  easy  to  fell  the  outlaw  in  his  tracks, 
and  I  half  resolved — but  it  was  for  an  instant 
only — that  I  would  do  the  deed,     But  I  grew 
wiser  in  another  moment.     In  the  intenseness  of 
my  feelings  in  regard  to  this  man,  I  had  failed, 
for  the  first  few  minutes,  to  see  that  he  was  not 
alone.     Beside  him,  dismounting  while  I  gazed, 
were  the  coi  disant  parson,  Mo  w  bray,  and  another 


HELEN    HALSEY.  185 

man,  the  fellow  Warner,  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken,  as  one  whom  I  remembered  to  have  met 
before  entering  the  Swamp. 

Here  was  a  concatenation  accordingly.    What 
was  I  to  do?     I  could  not  doubt  the  intention  of 
these  fellows.     I  could  not  but  believe  that  their 
journey  was  undertaken  because  of  my  flight. 
They  were  in  pursuit  of  me.     That  they  had  no 
idea  of  my  proximity,  I  soon  felt  certain,  as  they 
prepared  to  water  the  horses  and  to  take  refresh 
ments  at  the  spring,  which  I  now  perceived  to  is 
sue  from  the  hill  upon  which  I  stood,  the  water 
foaming  below  in  a  basin  several  yards  in  breadth. 
I  was  not  more  than  fifteen  feet  above  them,  and, 
at  one  time,  as  they  were  about  to  seat  them 
selves,  1  might  have. so  tumbled  &  rock  upon 
them — had   any   been    convenient — as   to   have 
corered  and  crushed  the  three.     I  looked  about 
me,  as  the  thought  occurred  to  me,  to  see  if  ihero 
was  no  such  friendly  fragment  at  hand. 

But,  if  I  had  any  doubt  at  first  of  the  object  of 
this  journey,  it  was  soon  dissipated  by  the  dia* 
logue  that  ensued  between  Bud  Ilalsey  and  Mow- 
bray,  There  had  evidently  been  a  good  many 
previous  words  between  them,  for  they  were  both 
very  much  irritated.  The  manner  of  Mowbray 
was  marked  by  sullenness,  and  that  of  Halscy 
Was  fully  characteristic  of  his  extremes!  mood 
of  asperity.  The  first  speaker  whose  words 
were  distinguishable,  was  Mowbray, — though  the 


186  HELEN    HALSEY. 

I 

tones  of  Halsey's  voice  had  reached  me  as  he 
drew  nigh. 

44 1  really  never  fancied  myself  a  fool,  Mr.  Hal- 
sey,  and  until  it  can  be  shown  that  I  am  one, — to 
blame  me  for  my  course  in  this  business  is,  in 
fact,  in  other  words,  to  accuse  me  of  treachery* 
I  see  no  other  alternative." 

"And  dq  you  suppose,  Mr.  Mpwbray,  that,  if 
such  a  suspicion  entered  into  my  head,  I  should 
tamely  sit  here  palavering  with  you?  No!  no! 
Sir.  By  G— d  !  the  stroke  would  have  followed 
the  suspicion,  as  certainly  and  soon  as  the  thun 
der  follows  the  flash.  I  give  few  words  to  trai 
tors,  I  assure  you." 

Mowbray  muttered  something  which  I  could 
not  make  out,  but  the  harsh  accents  of  Halsey 
seemed  to  drown  his  utterance'. 

"  I  am  not  in  any  complimentary  mood,  and 
therefore  do  not  call  you  fool  either,  as  you  seem 
to  insist  that  I  do  or  should.  I  know  that  you 
are  no  fool,  and  it  is  therefore  that  I  blame  you. 
Bull  wHl  tell  you  what  is  the  matter  with  you, 
Mr.  Mowbray — you  are  a  vain  man,  with  all  your 
wisdom,  and  this  boy  has  flattered  your  vanity,  un 
til  he  has  bedevilled  you.  You  have  ceased  to 
watch  him  in  listening  to  him.  He  has  seen  your 
•  weak  points,  and  contriving  to  make  you  look  in 
wards,  you  have  been  able  to  see  nothing  that  he 
lias  been  contriving  without.  Your  vanity,  sir, — 
it  is  your  vanity,  sir,  that  is  your  weakness — that 


HELEN    HALSEY.  187 

makes  a  fool  of  you,  if  anything — blinds  you  at 
all  events  to  the  duties  that  you  take  in  hand." 

"  You  speak  plainly,  sir,  at  all  events." 

"Ay,  ay,  it's  a  trick  I  have,  and  as  it's  plain 
truth  that  I  generally  speak  on  such  occasions, 
it's  not  a  bad  trick.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Mowbray, 
that  I  have  a  trick  of  acting  plainly  too,  upon  oc 
casion, — and  let  me  say  in  your  ear,  that,  when 
I  found  how  completely  you  had  suffered  this 
chap  to  slip  through  your  fingers,  in  a  trap  of 
your  own  making — I  found  it  almost  as  easy  to 
put  a  bullet  through  your  ears  as  to  speak  to 
them  !" 

"  I  should  not  have  been  more  a  sufferer  than 
by  the  course  you  have  taken.  It  is  not  too  late, 
sir." 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  Mowbray, — this  will  not 
do.  I  must  have  no  sulks  !  You  have  blunder 
ed,  shockingly  blundered,  and  I  must  be  permit 
ted  my  own  way  of  reproaching  you  for  it.  The 
matter  is  a  serious  one.  It  endangers  our  whole 
business,  our  lives  and  the  safety  of  our  men. 
Let  us  see  that  there  be  no  more  blundering. 
This  fellow  cannot  long  escape  us.  He  will  not, 
if  you  do  not  again  suffer  that  d— d  petty  weak 
ness  of  yours,  to  blind  your  eyes  and  baffle  your 
judgment." 

Mowbray  was  silent, — with  a  silence  that  be 
trayed  dissatisfaction.  The  other  did  not  seem 
to  heed  it,  as  he  went  on : 

•*  By  this  time    every  avenue  is   guarded— 


188  HELEN   HAL0ET. 

every  outlet  from  the  Swamp.  We  must  be 
ahead  of  him ;  and,  if  not,  travelling  night  and 
day  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours,  will  make  us 
so.  What  sort  of  a  horse  was  it  that  he  got  from 
that  old  fool,  Houser  ?  Did  you  think  to  inquire, 
Warner  ?" 

"  A  regular  break-down — a  poor,  foundered, 
spavined  critter,  not  worth  skinning.  I  know  the 
nag  well  enough.  I  reckon  he's  hardly  got 
through  the  Swamp  with  him  yet." 

"And  why  didn't  you  follow  him  when  you 
found  out  that  he  was  so  poorly  mounted  ?"  de 
manded  the  outlaw. 

44  You  forget,  sir,  I  went  down  to  the  mill  in  the 
boat.  I  had  no  horse,  and  he  had  a  matter  of 
eight  hours  start  of  me." 

"  Then,  be  sure  the  fellow's  ahead  of  us  still. 
He's  the  chap  to  push  a  horse  from  the  jump,  with 
out  asking  how  he's  to  hold  out.  He's  ahead  of 
us,  but  can't  keep  so  long.  At  all  events  we'll 
push  for  the  *  Raccoon  crossing,'  and  scatter  there. 
We  should  have  him  by  another  sun-rise.  D — n 
him  !  But  for  that  foolish  brother  of  mine,  and  the 
poor  girl-^I  would  that  her  blood  were  not  upon 
my  hands — poor  Helen — any  blood  but  hers  !— 
but  for  them,  all  this  would  have  been  prevented. 
We  should  have  had  no  such  trouble.  I  should 
never  have  been  so  weak — so  silly — but  it  can  be 
mended— at  least,  it's  not  too  late  for  that  1  Thero 
shall  be  no  relentings  now  P 

This  was  spoken  rather  in  soliloquy*      Tho 


HELEN    HALSEY.  189 

slight  touch  of  a  human  nature  which  the  outlaw 
displayed,  when  speaking  of  his  niece,  brought 
the  tears  into  my  eyes.  But  his  expressions  with 
regard  to  myself  in  the  next  moment  dried  them, 
and  I  could  have  pistolled  him  on  the  spot  with  a 
coolness  and  recklessness  not  unlike  his  own. 

Their  meal  was  finished  in  silence.  At  the  ab 
rupt  command  of  their  leader,  Warner  gathered 
up  the  fragments,  and  I  saw  them  mount  their 
steeds,  and  set  ofT  upon  the  journey,  without  mov 
ing  from  my  position.  I  caught  a  glimpse,  as  they 
were  mounting,  of  the  face  of  Mowbray,  who  was 
the  slowest  in  his  movements  of  the  three.  I  ob 
served  that  it  was  almost  purple  with  suppressed 
choler.  He  rode  after  the  others  in  silence,  with 
lips  closely  compressed,  and  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  could  speak  daggers,  and  use  them  too,  if  he 
dared ! 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

I  FELT  my  heart  grow  very  chill  as  I  reviewed 
my  situation.  My  path  was  every  where  beset,  and 
Bud  Halsey,  knowing  the  country  as  he  did,  and 
being  the  person  that  he  was,  was  not  likely  to 
leave  his  work  unfinished.  The  conversation  of 
my  pursuers  was  of  a  kind  to  leave  me  hopeless 


190  .  HELEN    HAL8EY. 

I 

of  any  escape,  except  through  the  merest  good 
fortune,  and  the  most  unyielding  firmness.  On 
the  very  path  that  I  was  pursuing,  my  arch  ene 
my,  with  his  two  subtle  satellites,  was  him 
self  upon  the  watch,  and  yet,  I  could  not  choose 
any  other  route.  I  knew  of  no  other,  and  the 
very  fact  that  I  knew  my  enemies  upon  this,  who 
they  were  and  where  they  were,  determined  me 
still  to  go  forward  as  I  had  begun.  I  must  take 
my  chance  and  meet  events  with  whatever  cour 
age  and  conduct  I  could  command.  It  was  evi 
dent  from  what  they  had  said,  and  from  the  free 
rein  with  which  they  dashed  forward,  that  there 
was  some  certain  point  ahead,  at  which  they 
aimed,  and  where  they  intended  to  await  me. 
What  was  that  point  ?  Where  was  'Raccoon  cross 
ing  ?'  I  was  ignorant  of  every  step  of  the  route. 
I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  forward  with  as 
much  prudence  as  possible — to  prepare  against 
all  sudden  surprises — to  keep  in  the  coyer  of 
the  woods,  where  they  were  of  a  nature  to 
suffer  me  to  do  so,  and  to  feel  my  ground  at 
every  change  of  position  before  betraying  my 
self.  In  no  other  way  could  I  hope  to  avoid  the 
encounter, — for  which,  should  it  be  unavoidable, 
I  must  only  man  myself  with  the  most  desperate 
resolution.  The  determination  to  sell  my  life  as 
dearly  as  possible,  seemed  to  nerve  me  with 
strength  to  proceed,  arid,  cutting  myself  a  stout 
hickory  for  the  wayside,  I  started  forward,  with 
spirits  much  lighter  than  seemed  to  be  altogether 


HELEN    HALSEY.  x     101 

justified  by  my  situation.  A  moment's  reflection 
now  served  to  convince  me  that,  what  I  had 
lately  regarded  as  a  crowning  evil — the  loss  of 
my  horse — was,  in  reality,  somewhat  favorable 
to  my  hope  of  escape.  It  enabled  me  to  keep 
the  cover  of  the  woods,  to  advance  noiselessly, 
and  to  conceal  myself  with  more  facility  on  the 
approach  of  danger.  Encouraged  by  thoughts 
like  these,  and  by  that  sort  of  audacity  which 
comes  from  one's  desperation,  I  dashed  into  mo 
tion  with  a  sort  of  defiance,  and,  keeping  along 
the  margin  of  the  road,  ready  to  seek  the  shelter 
of  the  woods  at  the  smallest  alarm,  I  commenced 
my  pedestrian  expedition  with  all  the  philosophy 
of  which  I  was  master. 

1  had  always  been  counted  a  good  amateur 
walker, — but  walking  as  a  duty,  and  in  a  new, 
unopened  country,  following  Indian  foot-paths, 
and  fording  streams,  wading  swamps,  and  "  coon- 
ing  logs,"  is  a  very  different  business.  The  road 
was  a  terribly  broken  one,  crossed  by  frequent 
ravine  and  rivulet, — for  I  was  not  yet  entirely 
out  of  the  Swamp  country, — and  full  of  obstruc 
tions  from  fallen  trees,  vines,  briars,  stumps,  and 
broken  branches.  But  I  was  sustained  by  the 
very  difficulties  of  my  situation.  I  wag  stimu 
lated  by  the  trial  of  my  strengthr  and  able  to  get 
forward  at  the  rate  of  three  miles  an  hour,  which 
was  probably  quite  as  much  as  could  have  bet* 
done,  in  his  best  days,  by  the  miserable  beast  1 
had  abandoned.  But,  five  hours  at  this  pace 


HELEN     IIAI.HRY. 

I 

soon  lessened  pretty  equally  my  strength  and 
elasticity.  Towards  evening.  I  began  to  feel  the 
approaching  gravity  of  the  scene.  The  trees  be 
gan  to  cast  a  longer,  denser  shadow  across  my 
path,  and  the  sun  glimmered  faintly,  sprinkling 
the  open  space  with  a  cluster  of  beaded  gold- 
drops,  which,  while  they  caught  my  glance,  and 
while  I  looked  for  them  from  side  to  side,  did  not 
very  much  tend  to  enliven  me.  '  The  wilderness 
seldom  has  its  singing  birds,  and  I  failed  to  hear 
tho  chirp  of  ono  tho  wholo  afternoon.  Once,  a 
couple  of  deer  glided  over  the  road  from  one 
thicket  to  another,  but  sign  of  living  thing  beside, 
I  saw  not ;  and,  as  the  sun  disappeared,  a  couple 
of  screech  owls  commenced  a  snout  gloomy  dcath- 
dnctt,  from  opposite  sides  of  the  path  over  which 
1  wns  to  nmko  my  way,niul  Hcomcd  to  accompany 
my  progress  for  a  good  half  hour  after.  Tho  moon 
rose,  however,  almost  with  tho  disappearance 
of  thfc  sun,  and  I  gave  her,  from  tho  bottom  of  my 
heart,  a  traveller's  benison,  She  poured  a  steady 
blnjw  of  light,  across  the  path,  and  thus  enabled 
me  to  avoid  its  pitfalls  and  obstructions.  Having 
no  place  of  retreat,  and  with  my  spirits  some 
what  revived  by  her  countenance,  I  still  pursued 
my  way,  resolving  to  continue  on  until  absolutely 
worn  out  with  fatigue.  For  three  hours  more  I 
did  HO,  but  weariness  began  to  wrap  mo  as  with  a 
cloud.  1  staggered  rather  than  walked  along  tho 
path,  and,  to  keep  my  eyes  open,  though  I  felt  no 
hunger,  I  took  from  my  pockets  ono  of  "the  corn 
with  which  I  had  provided  myself  at  tho 


HELEN    11ALSLY.  11KJ 

hovel  of  the  Choctaw,  and  commenced  eating 
against  time.  While  thus  engaged,  I  happened 
upon  a  trail  which  struck  into  the  woods  upon 
my  right,  and  seemed  to  lead  to  an  opening, 
which  was  partially  discernable  from  the  road — 
the  moonlight  falling  down  upon  the  space,  in  a 
body,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  placid  lake. 
My  exhaustion  furnished  me  with  sufficient  rea 
sons  why  I  should  turn  into  this  path,  which  I 
did  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  I  followed  it 
for  some  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  when  it  forked. 
I  took  one  of  the  branches  at  hazard,  followed  it 
some  fifty  yards  farther,  and  found  myself  sud 
denly  in  front  of  a  rude  shanty  of  logs,  more  like 
the  den  of  a  wild  animal  than  the  dwelling  of  a  hu 
man  being.  Prudence  would  have  counselled  me 
rather  to  find  my  night's  rest  in  the  thicket  than 
in  such  a  hovel ; — but  the  sight  of  anything  in 
the  shape  of  human  habitation,  seemed  to  me  to 
convey  the  idea  of  security.  Besides,  this  place 
was  evidently  abandoned,  and  had  been  long 
without  a  tenant.  I  did  not  plunge  into  it  head 
long,  but  exercising  all  the  circumspection  that  I 
could  command,  in  that  general  dulling  of  the 
faculties  that  had  been  produced  by  weariness 
and  cold,  I  examined  the  hut  cautiously  from  the 
outside, — taking  care  to  peer  into  it  from  each 
corner, — and  without  seeing  anything  to  alarm 
me.  The  roof,  which  had  been  originally  a  thin 
thatch  of  pine  boughs  and  leaves,  wa^  half  broken 
in  and  lay  upon  the  ground  below — the  ends  of 
the  remaining  branches  still  hanging  half  wa> 
9 


194  HELEN    HAL0EY. 

I 

down  and  threatening  a  further  fall.    The  door 
which  was  made  of  plank,  was  thrown  down 
within ; — and  such,  in  short,  was  the  generally 
desolate  air  of  the  place,  that  I  took  possession  at 
once,  taking  for  granted  that  my  pursuers  were 
considerably  ahead  of  me, — and  of  other  persons 
I  had  nothing  to  fear.     1  was,  perhaps,  more 
readily  persuaded  to  give  this  preference  to  tho 
hovel  over  tho  woods,  as,  by  thin  tim<»,  I  could 
hear,  rising  at  intervals  from  tho  deep  recesses    , 
of  the  swamp-thickets,  confused  sounds,  not  un 
like  the  hoarse  voices  of  boasts  of  prey  preparing 
to  emerge  for  their  nightly  orgies.     I  could  not 
doubt  that,  among  these,  tho  nlmrp  bay  of  the 
wolf  was  a  frequent  sound  ; — anil,  HH  it  would  not 
be  prudent  for  me  to  raise  a  fue,  lest,  in  driving 
the  brute  from  my  slumbers,  I  should  only  furnish 
a  conducting  signal  to  a  foe  equally  if  not  more 
deadly — I  concluded  to  take  my  rest  in  the  cabin. 
Tho  door  1  raim;d  to  its  former  position  so  as  to 
close  entirely  tho  opening,  fastening  it  iu  its  placy 
by  the  wythes  of  grape- vine,  which  I  found  in 
long  coils  conveniently  within  tho  cabin.     This 
done,  I  looked  at  my  inner  accommodations.  Tho 
moon,  shining  down  through  one  half  of  tho  dis 
mantled  roof,  enabled  mo  to  neo  and  to  di*pos<? 
of  tho  massed  pine  trnsh,  which  had  onco  furnish 
ed  tho  thatch  above.     Of  this,  I  made  a  very 
comfortable  couch  in  the  covered  part  of  my  den, 
which  was  still  in  shadow ;  and,  having  put  my 
pistols  within  convenient  grasp  of  my  hand,  I 
yielded   my  farther  cares  of  the  night,  to   the 


HELF.N    1IAI.3EV.  195 

gracious  providence,  which  had  hitherto  hid  me 
in  its  keeping,  a  brief  prayer  for  protection,  and 
a  few  sad  thoughts  to  the  memory  of  poor  Helen, 
ah"d  I  was  soon  lost  to  the  farther  troubles  of  con 
sciousness. 

I  slept  very  soundly  and  satisfactorily.     My 
previous  excitements  and  fatigues  had  given  to 
my  slumbers  a  rare  and  delightful  relish,  to  con 
firm  the  sweetness  and  efficacy  of  which,  my 
dreams  were  of  the  most  soothing  and  grateful 
tendency.     The  past  experience  of  pang  was  for 
gotten  in  their  ministcrings.     Poor  Helen  was 
once  more  a  living  and  loving  spirit  in  my  arms. 
Once  more  I  found  myself  roving  over  the  wild 
recesses   of  Conelachita  in   her   company — my 
arm  about  her  waist,  and  both  of  us  as  happy,  and 
as  little  moved  by  care,  as  if  there  ha4  been  no 
"Other  human   beings   in   the  world   around   us. 
From  this  happy  state,  I  was  suddenly  awakened, 
—I   know   not  how  !     The  moon   was  shining 
directly  down  upon  my  face.     I  looked  round  as 
if  seeking  Helen, — becoming  aware  very  slowly 
of  the  solemn  truth  of  my  loneliness.     But  I  soon 
became  aware  of  other  facts  in  my  condition. 
The  door  which  I  had  so  carefully  put  up,  as  a 
defence  during  my  slumbers,  was  removed,  and 
now  partly  rested  against  the  passage.     I  could 
see  one  of  its  angles  protruding  through  the  space. 
In  the  opening,  and  upon  the  sill,  crouched  a 
form,  which,  at  my  first  consciousness,  seemed  to 
me  to  be  that  of  a  wild  animal.     I  fancied  it  a 
bear.    Under  the  momentary  impulse,  I  stretched 


190  IfELEN    I1ALSEV. 


ouf  my  hands  to  the  spot  just  by  my  head  where 
I  had  placed  my  pistols.  They  were  gone  !  — 
and  the  half  scornful  chuckle  of  the  intruder,  as 
he  beheld  my  movement,  at  once  informed  me  by 
what  agency,  I  started  up  into  a  sitting  posturo 
and  confronted  the  stranger. 

"Be  quiel,"  said  he,  and  I  then  recognized  the 
yoice  of  Mpwbray.  "  Be  quiet—  keep  your  tem 
per  and  your  breath,  and  all  may  go  well  with 


11  Where  is  Bud  HalseyfV  I  demanded,  under 
I  know  not  what  impulse^ 

"  Fortunately  for  you,  not  within  hearing  dis 
tance.  You  are  lucky  in  one  thing,  that  he  sent 
mo  on  this  route,  instead  of  taking  it  himself. 
But  for  this  your  sleep  had  not  been  so  gently 
broken  P. 

"  But  how  did  you  find  mo  out?" 

M  Iln  !  ha  1  ha  !  you  arc  ex  raro  person  at  hide- 
and-seek*  You  remind  me  of  that  sagacious 
bird  —  tho  ostrich  I  think  it  i«  —  that,  when  pur 
sued  by  tho  hunter,  buries  its  hetul  in  n  hollow, 
leaving  the  rest  of  its  carcass  to  take  care  of  it 
self.  He's  a  bad  scout  who  thinks,  because  he 
can  no  longer  see  his  enemy,  that  he  himself  must 
needs  remain  unseen*  Why  did  you  hide  in  the 
hovel  at  all  —  why  not  in  the  woods  ?" 

**I  was  afraid  of  wolves,  and  did  not  dare  to 
light  a  fire/' 

"But  why  not  take  a  tree  ?" 

*'  I  never  thought  of  that  !  I  was,  indeed,  too 
much  tired,  and  too  sleepy  to  think  at  all  !*' 


HELEN    HALSEV.  107 

44  Well,  that  is  frank  enough, — but,  when  you 
determined  to  take  the  cabin,  you  should  not 
have  raised  the  door.  That  was  enough  to  tell 
me  that  somebody  was  within, — and  then  you 
slept  in  the  moonlight !  I  saw  your  features  dis 
tinctly — saw  where  your  pistols  lay,  and  found 
no  difficulty  in  cutting  through  grape-vines,  let 
ting  the  door  down  quietly,  and  removing  your 
pistols." 

This  simple  statement  showed  how  obtusely  I 
had  gone  to  work,  in  the  stupor  caused  by  fatigue 
and  drowsiness,  in  rendering  myself  secure. 

"  I  guarded  only  against  wild  beasts — I  thought 
you  were  far  ahead  !" — 1  muttered,  as  if  to  excuse 
my  stupidity. 

"  You  thought  we  were  far  ahead  ?  Why, 
what  did  you  know  about  it?"  said  Mowbray 
with  some  surprise.  I  hesitated  before  replying. 

"Why  should  I  answer  you?  Do  I  not  know 
you  to  be  my  enemy  ?  What  need  of  parley  be 
tween  us  ?" 

I  spoke  this  very  fiercely.  I  was  now  desper 
ate.  His  coolness, — as  I  conjectured,  what  was 
the  feeling  of  confidence  in  my  capture  which 
filled  his  mind. — incensed  me,  and  I  felt  the  mo 
mentary  impulse  to  spring  upon  him  where  he 
Stood. 

"Be  not  wrothy !"  he  said — "keep  cool  1  You 
forget,  my  good  fellow,  that  you  are  defence 
less  !" 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?*'  I  demanded. 

He  held  up  my  own  pistols  as  I  spoke* 


'18  HELEN    HALSEY. 

"What  are  these?" 

"True, — but  I  have  this T— and  I  drew  the 
dirk  from  my  bosom  with  which  Bush  Halscy 
had  provided  me. 

He  cocked  both  of  the  pistols  as  I  answered. 

"  And  of  what  avail  would  your  dirk  be,  Henry 
Meadows,  against  these  ?  I  have  but  to  draw  the 
trigger  of  either.  I  know  the  pistols  and  you 
know  my  aim.  But  a  truce  to  this, — you  do  not 
yet  know  me.  I  do  not  seek  your  life.  I  will 
save  it  if  you  will  suffer  me  As  I  said  before,  it 
is  fortunate  that  Bush  Halsey  sent  me  on  this 
route  instead  of  taking  it  himself." 

I  interrupted  him* 

"  SpmU  to  mi'  MM  an  liMiiPst  ninp  —nn  a  man, 
Mowbray.  Do  I  understand  yo  4  ?  Can  I 
believe  you  ?  Do  you  not  mean  to  betray  me 
once  more,  as  you  did  when  you  devised  the 
scheme  for  robbing  the  supposed  agent  ?" 

"  How  know  you  that  ?"  he  demanded. 

In  brief,  I  told  him  of  the  position  I  had  kept 
when  Bud  Halscy,  Warner,  and  himself  stopped 
for  dinner  at  the  spring.  How,  hanging  over 
their  heads,  I  had  heard  all  their -conversation. 

"  You  heard,  then,  the  insolence  of  this  bearded 
tyrant  ?  You  saw  what  I  had  to  endure — 1,  a 
gentleman  born  and  bred,  at  the  lumds  of  thnt 
ruffian.  You  heard, — you  say  ?  you  heard  1" 

"  Every  syllable."  t 

"  And  you  cannot  understand  why  I  would 
thwart  the  scoundrel — why  I  would  save  you  ? — 
nay,  why  I  should  show  you  how  to  put  a  bullet 
through  his  brains  ?  All  this  will  I  do  !  Arc 


HELEN    HALSEY.  11)9 

ready  to  second  me  ?  Will  you  play  a  des 
perate  game  for  your  life  V9 

"  Try  me  !  If  you  speak  me  fairly,  the  thing 
may  be  done.  They  are  but  two,  and  we  are — " 

"  Wronged — and  of  equal  number.  Be  it  so  ! 
To  prove  to  you  that  I  am  in  earnest,  here  ore 
your  pistols.  Sound  them — see  that  they  are 
charged.  Take  nothing  on  trust.  All  right  ?" 

"  Yes  !" 

"  jNow  hear  me  !  You  chose  for  your  placo 
of  rest,  the  very  region  where  we  proposed  to 
lie  in  wait  for  you.  *  Raccoon  Crossings'  has  three 
tracks,  each  leading  to  an  old  Indian  encampment. 
You  happened  to  choose  the  one  least  likely  to 
have  been  chosen  by  one  seeking  concealment. 
It  lies  almost  within  sight  of  the  road,  and  was 
probably  the  only  track  you  happened  to  sec.  It 
•was  for  this  reason  that  Bud  Halsey  sent  me  on 
this  route.  He  took  for  granted  that  you  would 
be  more  likely  to  be  encountered  on  either  of  the 
others.  To  one  of  these  he  sent  Warner,  the 
other  he  pursued  himself.  The  third,  and  least 
likely,  under  ordinary  calculations,  to  have 
brought  you  up,  he  assigned  to  me,  for  no  better 
reason  than  I  can  conjecture,  but  that  he  suspects 
me.  He  suspects  me  of  being  privy  to  your 
flight,  and  some  singular  circumstances,  which  I 
need  not  tell  you  now,  contributed  to  make  his 
suspicions  natural  and  strong.  It  will  probably 
increase  your  confidence  in  my  present  plan, 
when  I  tell  you  that,  being  under  his  suspicion,  L 
am  probably  marked  out  as  his  next  victim,  and 
he  only  brought  me  with  him,  from  the  Swamp, 


200  HELEN    11AL3EY* 

that  I  migjjt  tye;  under  his  own  eye  till  the  proper 
moment  of  Dealing  with  me.  A  common  cause 
unites  us.1  :  Are  you  ready  V 

«  Fof*  what  r  " 

"  for  *\Vhat  ? — Why,  blood ! — Death  1-,-what 
else  ?  Do  you  fear  ?  Will  you  not  %ht  r 

"  Fear  !  no  !  Be  not  so  violent !  I  like  harsh 
language  as  little  as  yourself.  All  I  wish  to  know 
is  what  jfou  design — your  plan.  I  have  nc*notion 
of  striking  like  a  blind  man  in  the  dark." 

•'  Very  good !  I  understand  you.  1  am  a  little 
irritable — half  mad,  indeed  !  I  feel  that  I  am  just 
sane  enough  to  do  mischief,  as  I  certainly  am  to 
design  it.  Here,  then,  you  wait.  Keep  your 
den — &eep  in  the  dark  corner, — while  I  go  and 
bring  Hulsey." 

•*  Would  it  not  be  better  to  go  to  him  ?" 

"  No  !  no  !  it  is  better  as  I  tell  you,  I  will 
bring  him  here.  You  will  keep  .still — keep  dark. 
I  will  lead  the  woy  into  your  den,  and  when  lie 
comes,  be  sure  and  make  your  mark  upon  him. 
I  will  be  ready  to  follow  up  the  blow.  Only  be 
sure  to  hit  the  right  man.  I  am  not  quite  pre 
pared  to  be  laid  by  the  heels — far  from  it — far 
from  it — yet  I  have  an  ugly  notion  that  my  time 
is  not  far  off.  Be  you  sure  of  your  man,  that's 
all.  Look  to  your  pistols — have  them  cocked, 
rmd  in  readiness* — and,  above  all  thingp,  be  cool 
—be  firm — do  nothing  in  a  hurry  1" 

Having  thus  counselled  me,  he  warned  rnc 
where  to  dispose  myself, 'and  proceeded  to  re 
place  my  door,  which  he  made  me  fasten  on  the 
insido  proeisrly  as  I  had  fastened  it  before. 


HELEN    HALSEY.  201 

"He  will  probably  insist  upon  the  removal  of 
the  door  himself,  for  he  fancies  nobody  can  do 
such  things  half  so  skilfully.  Should  this  be  the 
case,  he  may,  and  probably  will,  enter  the  cabin 
first.  In  this  event,  you  will  act  without  waiting 
for  me,  only  taking  care  that  I  am  not  immedi 
ately  behind  him.  You  will  easily  know  him  by 
his  superior  bulk.  You  cannot  well  confound 
us,  unless  you  arc  alarmed  beyond  measure, 
which  I  hardly  think  will  be  the  case.  Be  of 
good  heart — you  will  need  all  of  its  strength  in 
half  an  hour." — With  these  words,  he  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Aa  all  the  particulars  in  my  situation  were 
known  to  himself,  I  was  content  that  he  should 
have  the  management  of  the  affair.  It  is  true, 
some  doubts  of  his  good  faith  occasionally  dis 
turbed  me,  but  they  were  soon  dissipated  with 
the  reflection  that,  had  he  meant  me  mischief, 
nothing  would  have  been  more  easy  than  to  have 
carried  out  his  purpose  while  I  slept.  He  had 
disarmed  me  of  my  most  effective  weapons, — had 
afterwards  restored  them  to  me, — and,  besides, 
the  manner  of  the  man  amply  denoted  the  sin 
cerity  of  those  denunciations  of  his  principal,  in 
which  he  so  violently  dealt.  Still,  though  resolv 
ed  to  confide  in  him,  1  felt  very  reluctant  to  await 
9» 


XM''-  IIIJhKN     !!. \KHKV. 

the  outlaw  in  the  close  den  in  which  I  was 
cabined.  Could  I  have  been  sure  of  his  route  in 
approaching,  I  should  have  certainly  gone  forth 
mid  waylaid  him,  JUtt  tho  more  I  reflected,  tho 

IU»|v    )    I'.-ll    flit-    jil'lldfliee   n!'  Iwtvllltf   \\W    MlMltei1 

to  Movvbray.  At  all  events,  I  was  wcaponed  I 
I  could  do  mischief!  I  could  mako  my  enemy 
pay  dearly  for  his  conquest,  if  he  succeeded  in  ob 
taining  it,  1  wus  resolved,  not  alone,  to  perish,-— 
and,  above  nil  things,  not  to  Duller  myself -to  ho 
taken  alive  !  1  hud  too  vivid  a  recollection  of 
that  humiliating  half-death,  by  the  rope,  which  ( 
had  already  undergone  at  the  hands  of  this 
butcher. 

A  more  tedious  hour  than  that  which  followed, 
1  never  passed  in  all  my  life.  My  head,  mean 
while,  was  filled  with  a  thousand  doubts,  suspi 
cions  and, apprehensions— but,  us  the  more  manly 
course1,  lifter  all,  is  to  givo  no  half  confidence  to 
your  ally,  1  yielded  myself  up  to  patience  with  all 
my  philosophy,  To  keep  quiet,  in  the  one  posi 
tion,  in  th«  guiso  of  sleep,  was  tho  moat  dillicnlt 
of  all  I'flortN,  mid  required  tho  utmost,  inflexibility 
of  norvo,  This  was  tho  hist  and  moul  urgent  ne 
cessity,  since  I  was  not  to  know  nt  what  moment 
the  enemy  would  peer  into  my  premises,  A  thou 
sand  times  I  fancied  whispers  and  approaches 
from  without,  The  lifting  of  a  dried  leaf  by  the 
wind, — the  straining  or  the  sighing  of  a  bough 
under  the  same  pressure — these  would  make  my 
heart  beat  and  jump  with  the  liveliest  anxiety. 
But  I  may  say,  confidently,  that  I  succeeded  in 


lii'.LE.V    I1ALSKY.  203 

• 

quelling  my  impatience,  so  as  to  maintain  a  posi 
tion  of  the  utmost  physical  inflexibility.  I  do  not 
think,  after  the  first  three  minutes  succeeding  the 
departure  of  Mowbray,  that  I  stirred  a  muscle. 
I  very  \vell  know  that  I  did  not  move  a  'imb. 
Those  three  minutes  I  devoted  to  stirring  the 
priming  in  my  pistols  and  putting  them  on  cock — 
shrouding  myself  as  closely  as  possible  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  my  den,  and  putting  myself  just 
in  that  position  which  would  enable  me  to  com 
mand  the  entrance,  with  the  best  possible  pros 
pect  of  doing  my  work  efficiently. 

Thus  prepared,  I  endured  the  hour — for  it  was 
fully  that — of  interval,  which  followed  the  depar 
ture  of  Mowbray,  before  I  became  conscious  of 
his  return.     The  ears  of  him  who  watches  for  his 
foe  arc  singularly  keen  and  apprehensive.     Miss 
Baillie,  in  one  of  her  plays,  has  a  happy  illustra 
tion  of  this  exquisite  nicety  of  sense,  under  such 
circumstances.     I  cannot  say  that  I  heard  the  ap 
proach  of  Bud  Halsey,  at  the  very  moment  when 
I  yet  knew  that  he  was  nigh.     The  instinct  of 
hatej>r  love,  is  a  nicer  sense  than  any  which  we 
cKave  in  ordinary.     It  is  an  instinct — a  sort  of  spi 
ritual  sense,  which,  leaping  the  ordinary  outworks 
of  nature,  takes  in  thc-coming  events  long  before 
they  have  cast  a  shadow  over  the  citadel.    I  knew 
that  my  enemy  was  nigh,  though  I  did  not  hear  a 
footstep— not  a  whisper  reached  my  ears — not  a 
sound  disturbed  the  familiar  silence, — yet  I  felt 
that  he  was  breathing  in  the  same  atmosphere 
with  myself.    I  felt  my  heart  bound— I  felt  my 


204  IIELKN    HALsS'.V. 

pulses  quicken — but  I  was  prepared  for  the  worst ! 
Fully  ten  minutes  followed  of  the  most  nervous 
anxiety*  Still,  not  a  sound — not  a  movement ! 
Cautious,  indeed,  were  the  approaches  of  the  out 
law,  and  though,  every  moment,  more  and  more 
impatient  for  action,  yet  the  very  caution  of  mine 
enemy  tended  to  the  increase  of  my  strength.  At 
length  I  was  made  conscious  of  a  sound,  and,  an 
instant  after,  the  light  of  the  moon  glinted  from  the 
blade  of  a  knife,  which  I  now  perceived  to  be 
working  upon  the  wythcs  which  fastened  the  door. 
A  few  moments  sufficed  to  sever  them  on  each 
side,  and  I  then  saw  that  the  door,  which  was  a 
massive  one,  was  gently,  and  with  case,  lifted 
from  without,  and  lodged  on  the  inside,  resting 
ngainst  one  of  the  posts,  The  figure  of  the  pcr- 
Bon  by  whom  this  NVUH  donr,  was  now  pnrtiully 
apparent  to  me,  but,  as  the  front  of  the  house  was 
in  shadow,  I  could  not  sufficiently  distinguish  the 
individual,  Could  I  have  been  sure  of  my  man, 
nothing  would  have  been  more  easy  than  to  have 
shut  him  where  he  stood,  But  I  sufficed  him  to 
enter,  which  ho  did,  HO  cautiously,  tlmt,  though  I 
saw  him  approach,  I  never  hoard  a  footfall.  One 
more  step  brought  him  into  the  light  of  the  moon, 
and  then,  thrusting  one  of  my  pistols  forward,  I 
pulled  trigger  upon  him,  To  my  utter  consterna 
tion  tho  weapon  gave  no  report,  The  flint  gave 
no  fire.  Before  1  could  present  the  socond  pistol, 
1  heard  an  exclamation  from  the  lips  of  Mowbray, 
at  the  entrance — a  single  "  Ha !"  in  tones  of  mor 
tification,  and  I  then  beheld  him  dart  upon  the  out- 


HELES    HAL3EY.  205 

law,  \vhile  he  \vas  advancing  upon  me,  and  strike 
him  twice  in  the  back.  A  terrible  yell  burst  from 
the  lips  of  Bud  Halscy,  as  he  turned  upon  his  as 
sailant. 

"Traitor!"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  you!" 

As  he  turned,  with  this  exclamation,  I  sprang 
forward,  clapped  my  remaining  pistol  to  his  head 
and  fired — this  time  with  effect.  My  bullet  went 
through  his  brain  at  the  very  moment  when,  grasp 
ing  Mowbray  by  the  throat  with  one  hand,  with 
the  other  he  drove  the  bowie  knife,  which  had 
been  destined  for  my  bosom,  through  that  of  my 
confederate.  Halsey  sunk  down  lifeless,  in  a 
heap  at  my  feet ;  while  Mowbray,  with  outstretch 
ed  arms,  staggered  backward,  and  leaned  for  a 
moment  against  the  unhung  door,  which  shook 
beneath  his  frame.  He  spoke  but  a  few  words, 
but  they  belonged  not  to  the  present  scene  or  cir 
cumstances. 

"  Raise  my  voice,  my  brethren— -cry  aloud, — 
the  time  is  at  hand." 

"  Mowbray !"  said  I,  grasping  his  body  and  en 
deavoring  to  support  him,  as  I  saw  that  he  was 
about  to  fall. 

"  Ah !"  said  he,  with  momentary  cor  ciousness, 
"  I  see  how  it  is !  There's  no  use  nc  !  But  tell 
her— tell  her  all/'  His  lips  parted  ii  lurried  and 
frequent  murmurs.  I  let  him  dowr  ;ently  upon 
the  pine  straw. 

" Tell  her  what? — tell  who  ? — name  her,  that  I 
may  know." 

"  What !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  momentary  re^ 


£')\l  UELUN    IIALBEY, 

covcry  of  strength,  "  have  you  not  heard  ? — have 
you  not  understood  me  ?" 

"  Not  u  word — not  a  syllable  P 

"  Great  God  ! — then  it'n  too  Into.!"  nnd  the  tears 
gushed  from  his  eyes.  Still  he  muttered,  seemed 
anxious  to  make  me  hear,  grasped  my  arm,  and, 
with  a  final  cflort  to  lift  himself,  sunk  away,  and 
expired  in  a  ftu'nt  shriek,  tho  appalling  Hound  of 
which  I  sometimes  hear  in  my  dreams,  even  to 
thin  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXVII, 

I  NKRD  not  sny,  that  for  tho  moment,  I  wan 
completely  stunned  by  the  rapid  occurrence  of 
these  events,  BO  equally  terrible  and  unexpected, 
There  was  my  cm»iny  at  my  fuot  insensible—- my 
powerful  enemy,  slum,  and  'without  striking  u 
Htroko  ut  IUM  doi'cnco,  by  my  inoxporionocd  hand 
—-the  hand  which  he  either  did  or  affected  to 
despise.  True,  I  had  my  Justification,  for  I  slew 
him  while  ho  was  hot  in  puwut  of  my  own  life, 
There,  too,  bcmdc  him,  lay  rny  confederate, — the 
uahuppv  Mowbruy,  whoso  own  wild  and»ungov- 
(U'imblo  puHsiotiH  had  dufruuded  of  all  the  high 
human  hopes,  which  good  family,  good  education, 
and  rare  intellectual  endowments,  might,  under 
better  auspices  of  morality,  have  ensured  to  his 
endeavors.  The  first  feeling  of  stupor  over,  and 
j  sat  looking  upon  his  stiillnitig  frame,  und  vngue 


• 

Ilti.E.N     HAi/oLV.  2Q1 

staring  ryes,  glistening  ghastly  in  the  moonlight, 
•with  thick-coming  fancies.  I  remembered  his 
presentiment  of  evil  but  a  little  hour  before — the 
bewildered  and  only  half  coherent  hope  which  he 
expressed  for  life  in  the  same  moment — I  remem 
bered  his  temporary  alliance  with  me — to  me  it 
mattered  not  the  motive — by  which  my  life  had 
been  saved — and  I  felt  the  tears,  hot  and  large, 
come  crowding  into  my  eyes.  What  would  I 
not  have  given,  could  I  have  heard  those  last 
words  which  he  could  not  articulate,  and  which 
seemed  to  be  charged  with  such  weighty  interest 
to  his  feelings,  in  the  last  struggles  of  his  living 
consciousness  !  Could  he  have  lived  only  for  re« 
pentance  !  Could  I  have  only  been  able  to  con 
vey  to  the  bereaved  and  mourning  wife,  the  wo- 
stricken  mother,  the  relatives  and  friends,  the  assu 
rance  that  he  died  in  prayer,  and  not  without  a 
hope  '  But  all  was  a  blank  in  that  last  terrible 
moment,  over  which  let  the  mortal  curtain  fall 
forever.  * 

I  was  roused  from  my  musings  by  the  neces 
sity  for  self-preservation.  There  was  still  an 
enemy  upon  my  track.  With  the  thought,  I  drew 
myself  out  of  the  moonlight.  I  stole  forth  in  the 
shadows  of  the  house,  and  from  tree  to  tree 
around  it,  listening  for  the  footfalls  of  danger.  I 
heard  none- but  my  own.  Still,  there  was  dan 
ger,  and  it  behoved  me  to  prepare  for  it.  I  hur 
ried  back  to  the  hovel — re-possessed  myself  of 
the  pistol  which  had  failed  me,  and  which  I  had 
cast  to  the  ground  when  it  became  necessary  to 


use  tho  other— picked  tho  edges  of  the  flint  with 
the  handle  of  my  dagger, — and  thus,  partially 
sure  of  this  weapon,  I  proceeded  to  make  a  hur 
ried  examination  of  the  dead  bodies,  in  order  to 
possess  myself  of  theirs.  I  found  an  armory* 
Bud  Halsey  carried  three  pistols  himself,  and  a 
bowie  knife  ;  while,  from  the  belt  of  Mowbray,  I 
plucked  two  more.  I  secured  them  all,  not  so 
much  with1  the  thought  that  I  should  need  them, 
but  simply  to  prevent  other  hands  from  using 
them  against  me.  Thus  armed,  I  stole  from  the 
hovel,  and  made  my  way  in  the  direction  of  the 
main  trace  from  which  I  had  departed. 

I  had  two  objects  before  me — to  find  a  horse, 
and  to  elude  or  frighten  Warner.  In  all  proba 
bility,  I  should  be  compelled  to  eflect  the  latter, 
in  order  to  secure  the  former  object.  Where  the 
horses  were  haltered,  was  to  be  ascertained. 
Probably,  they  were  in  this  man's  keeping.  He 
and  they  were  to  be  searched  for,  and  at  some 
hazard.  But  I  gave  myself  up  confidingly  to  the 
gracious  providence  that  had  carried  me  so  far 
through,  and  went  forward  with  a  free  but  cau 
tious  footstep.  If  he  had  heard  the  shot,  which — 
within  three  miles,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  night, 
he  was  likely  to  have  done, — in  all  probability 
he  would  make  his  way  towards  the  spot  whence 
it  issued.  I  might  then  look  to  meet  him.  At  all 
events,  I  was  to  seek  out  the  other  two  pathways 
or  'Crossings,* — whether  I  looked  for  him  or  the 
horses.  In  the  rnidst  of  my  doubts  and  musings, 
I  heard  the  faint  hootings  of  an  owl.  It  was  bare* 


I1ELEK    IIALSEY.  209 

« 

ly  possible  that  this  was  a  signal.  Certainly, 
owls  enough,  of  the  feathered  tribe,  might  be  ex 
pected  in  such  a  region.  But  I  knew  how  much 
the  outlaws  were  in  the  habit  of  relying  upon 
their  powers  of  imitation,  in  communicating  to 
one  another,  under  circumstances  oi*  danger  or 
difficulty.  One  thing  struck  me  as  suspicious. 
1  did  not  hear  the  almost  immediate  answer  to 
this  summons,  with  which  the  mate  of  the  owl 
usually  acknowledges  the  signal.  I  paused  a 
Biiiiicient  time  to  admit  of  this,  and  then  deter 
mined  to  remain  where  I  \vns,  under  the  close 
rover  of  a  tree,  at  least  for  a  little  space  of  time. 
Five  minutes  had.  not  elapsed,  when  a  second 
hooting,  now  more  distinct,  was  echoed  through 
the  forest.  I  determined  to  try  my  powers  of 
imitation  also,  and  I  sent  forth  a  most  vigorous, 
if  not  equally  dulcet  response  of 

"  Hoo ! — Uoo ! — Hoo !  hoo !  hoo !"  There  camo 
a  ready  answer !  With  the  answer  I  retreated, 
once  more,  towards  the  place  of  conflict — paus 
ing,  after  I  had  gone  a  certain  distance,  and  wail 
ing  for  a  farther  signal.  I  did  not  wait  for  it 
long,  and  I  was  delighted  to  find  that  the  fellow 
seemed  following  the  sound.  I  gave  it  him  again 
from  where  I  stood,  then  retreated  another  space, 
and  waited  his  approach.  Again  the  cry,  and 
again  the  answer.  I  now  discovered  that  he 
was  fairly  in  the  'crossing'  which  led  to  my 
den.  Here  then,  I  took  my  stand,  within  five 
steps  of  the  path  upon  which  he  came,  with  my 
person  fully  concealed  in  the  thicket,  yet  with  the 
muzzle  of  my  pistols  commanding  the  track  and 
every  thing  that  might  come  upon  it.  And  now 
the  question  occurred  to  me,  shall  I — can  I— 
shoot  the  fellow  down  from  my  ambush,  or  shall 
I  suffer  him  to  go  forward,  then,  hurrying  down 
the  road  which  he  had  left,  leave  him  to  imd  the 


210  IIKLE.V    HAL8EY. 

I  » 

bodies,  while  I  sought  for  the  horses.  But  I  had 
little  time  for  determining  my  course.  There 
was  no  choice.  The  fellow  came  on  horseback ! 
Even  while  I  meditated  the  question,  his  horse 
thundered  down  the  avenue.  1  resolved  on  the 
most  merciful  expedient,  and  as  the  steed  appear 
ed  in  sight,  1  gave  him  my  bullet.  The  bcust 
dashed  aside  against  a  huge  tree  that  stood  some 
fifteen  steps  upon  the  •  path,  then  fell  forwards, 
with  a  tremendous  concussion,  to  the  ground.  I 
had  no  time  to  lose.  I  rushed  forward,  and  as  I 
broke  through  the  bushes,  Warner  cried  out  to 
me : — 

"  Captain, — Mr.  Mowbray — it's  me, — Warner 
- — what  have  you  done  ?  Help  me  !  I'm  half 
crushed  under  the  horse.  I  reckon  he's  done 
for.  He  don't  move  !" 

"Villain!"  I  cried,  bestraddling  him,  as  he  lay 
with  one  leg  and  thigh  completely  under  the  am* 
mal.  "Villain  ! — this  moment  is  your  last !" 

"  How  !     Who's  this  f"  he  screamed — ninkjpg, 

ot  the  same  time,  a  vain  effort  at  resistance  ; — 

one  of  his  hands  striving  hard  to  find  its  way 

into   his    bosom,  against    which   my  knee   wai 

^trenuously  pressed. 

"  Do  not  move — >do  not  struggle — I  have  no 
wish  to  kill  you, — but  unless  you  arc  quiet  I  will 
do  so.*' 

"  Is  it  you,  Mr,  Meadows  ?" 

'*  Ay  !  you  came  too  late." 

"  Who  tired  before  ?" 

•'  I  did." 

"At  whom?" 

"  Your  master — Bud  Halsey — and  he  lies  as 
stiff  and  silent  as  your  horse." 

*'  Grim  ! — you  don't  say  so." 

"  It  is  true  as  gospel." 

"  And  Mr.  Mowbray  ?" 


HELEN    HALSEV.  211 

"  He  was  killed  by  Bud  Halsey." 
"  I  looked  for  that !"  said  the  fellow,  very  cool 
ly.     "  Well,  Squire,  if  it's  true  what  you  say,  I 
reckon  I  must  give  in !    But  help  me  out  of  this  fix, 
for  mercy's  sake — I'm  afca.rd  the  leg's  smashed." 
"  Not  till  I've  emptied  your  bosom  of  what  it's 
got  in  it,  my  good  fellow.     Let  us  sec." 

He  oilercd  no  objections  to  my  search,  and  I 
drew  from  his  bosom  and  waist,  with  some  diffi 
culty,  a  pair  of  pistols,  a  bowie  knife,  and  an  ordi 
nary  couteau  dc  chasse, — for  Warner  was  a 
*•  master  of  the  pleasant  sports  of  Venerie." 
Though  I  searched  narrowly,  I  found  nothing 
more,  likely,  to  endanger  my  safety, — and,  these 
secured,  I  proceeded  to. give  him  all  the  help  I 
could  in  extricating  him  from  the  body  of  the 
horse.  This  was  no  easy  task,  ibr  the  animal 
was  one  of  considerable  'size,  and  the  roots  and 
vines  where  he  had  fallen  offered  many  obstruc 
tions.  Besides,  it  appeared,  from  the  .way  in 
which  he  lay,  that  Warner  could  do  little  for  him 
self.  When  at  length  relieved,  he  did  not  rise. 
He  strove,  but  could  not.  A  moment's  exami 
nation  sufficed  to  show  that  his  right  leg  was 
shattered. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  was  the  mournful  excla 
mation  of  the  ruilian. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  was  my  answer.  "Where 
have  you  left  the  horses  of  Bud  Halsey  and 
Mowbray  ?" 

He  gave  me  directions  where  I  should  find  them, 
and  leaving  him  where  he  lay,  I  at  once  went  af 
ter  them.  They  were  soon  found,  and  choosing 
the  best,  which  was  a  noble  black  of  Bud  Halsey, 
I  mounted  him,  and  led  the  other  to  Warner. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  there  is  but  one  way  for  you. 
I  will  help  you  to  mount  the  horse  of  Mowbray, 
which  is  a  short  animal,  and  as  you  are  a  good  ri- 


HELEN     I1AL8LY. 


dcr,  you  can  keep  on  with  me  to  the  first  settle 
ment,  where  you  can  get  surgical  assistance,  or 
at  all  events,  the  best  assistance  that  the  neigh 
borhood  affords.  What  say  you  to  that  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir, — but  1  know  a  better  way 
Only  help  me  to  get  on  the  horse,  sir,  and  then, 
with  your  leave,  we'll  part  company.  It's  not 
every  day  that  I  can  visit  the  settlements,  and  it 
may*  be  as.  much  as  *my  neck's  worth  to  go  in 
your  company/* 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  betray  you  ?"  I  said, 
with  loathing. 

"  No  !  sir,  oh  '  no  !  I  reckon  I  know  .you  bet 
ter, — but  you'd  find  it  difficult  to  answer"  for  me, 
seeing  as  how  I'd  find  it  impossible  to  answer  for 
myself;  and  then,  again,  there's  no  need  for  mo 
to  go  that  way  for  help,  when  I  can  get  quite  as 
good  or  better  in  the  Swamp." 

14  Can  you  ?  Arc  you  sure  that  you  can  reach 
the  Swamp  f" 

14  Oh !  very  sure ;  for  that  matter  I  shall  find 
help  lonp  before  I  get  there." 
^•*Bc  it  so,"  1  answered.  "  You  know  best,— 
You  have  your  choice*  You  nrc  your  own  mas 
ter."  Ho  signified  his  readiness  to  make  the  effort, 
and  fastening  the  horse  of  Mowbray  to  a  sapling 
close  beside  him,  I  throw  my  whole  strength  in 
to  the  effort, and  raised  him  erect — he  resting,  for 
an  instant,  upon  his  sound  leg,  while  1  lifted  him 
to  my  shoulder,  and  finally  to  the  saddle,  in  the 
stirrup  of  whjeh,  planting  the  foot  of  his  unbroken 
limb,  he  contrived,  with  my  assistance,  to  fling  the 
shattered  member  across.  The  effort  was  one 
of  great  suffering,  and  at  one  moment  I  thought 
the  fellow  would  have  fainted.  But  he  was  a 
tough  villain,  and  had  been  in  such  scrapes  be 
fore. 

"It's  not  the  first  time,"  said  he,  with  a  groan  ? 


IIELl'N    IIALSKY.  ~13 

"  I've  had  the  same  leg  smashed  before,  and  I 
reckon  it  wont  be  the  last." 

"  Take  care,"  said  I,  "  the  next  time,  it  isn't 
your  neck  !"  . 

'*  Ah !  Squire,"  said  the  scoundrel,  with  a 
chuckle,  "  it's  not  my  neck  only  that's  in  danger  !" 

The  reminiscence  might  have  been  i'atal  to  him 
an  hour  before ;  but  1  Buffered  the  insolence  to 
pass  unpunished.  Certainly,  the  fellow  deserved 
to  go  scot-free  who  could  be  content  to  joke  un 
der  such  circumstances.  I  saw  him  fairly  start 
ed,  in  very  tolerable  strength  and  spirits,  and  be 
came  satisfied  that  he  should  thus  depart,  from  the 
coolness  and  confidence  which  he  manifested. — 
He  uttered  his  thanks  and  acknowledgments  very 
civilly,  and,  seeing  him  fairly  under  way,  I  also 
took  the  saddle.  Jn  a  few  moments  he  was  off  in 
a  smart  canter,  while,  taking  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  1  proceeded  also  nt  a  similar  pace.  Whe 
ther  he  lived  or  died,  recovered  his  limb,  or  went 
lame  through  life,  I  cannot  say.  He  has  no  far 
ther  interest  in  my  story.  For  tins,  almost  as 
brief  a  paragraph  will  suffice,  I  reached  Lea- 
sido  without  further  adventure  or  interruption  of 
any  moment.  I  stopped  a  night  with  *  plain 
Yannaker,'  who  eyed  my  black  with  the  wistful 
eyes  of  one  who  had  his  doubts  and  curiosities. 
But  he  asked  no  questions.  Some  day,  Yannaker 
shall  make  a  story  of  his  own. How  my  mo 
ther  blessed  me  and  kissed  me,  and  welcomed  me 
home — how  she  looked  into  my  face  and  wonder 
ed  at  its  sedatcness — how  my  father  pressed  me 
for  a  narration,  which,  until  this  moment.  J  have 
shared  with-  none, — these  call  for  no  farther  de 
velopment.  But  there  was  a  cloud  upon  my  brow 
which  neither  had  ever  beheld  there  before — and 
there  was  an  abstraction  in  my  glance,  which  was 
strangely  at  variance  with  the  imperious  and  di 
rect  gaze  with*  which,  before  that  season,  I  had 


214  '  HELEN    IIALSEV. 

met  every  other  eye.     In  the  brief  space  of  two 
months,  I  had  counted  years  by  moments.     I  had 
crowded  the  events  of  a  long'life,  into  the  limits    "- 
of  a  single  moon. 


\ 

1      CONCLUSION. 


SEVEN  years  after  these  events,  there  was  a 
general  clearing  out  of  the  outlaws,  from  the 
swamp  retreats  of  Conelachita.     The  circum« 
stances  distinguishing  the  movement  of  that  popu 
lar  phrenzy,  by  which  this  great  result  was  ef 
fected,  have  already  been  chronicled  in  history 
and  illustrated  by  romance.     Under  less  circum-    . J 
spect  leaders,  the  outlaws  had  lost  much  of  their 
prudence  and  adroitness ;  and,  indeed,  the  condi 
tion  of  the  country  had  become  less  favorable  to 
their  operations.    Population  of  a  more  perma 
nent  and  industrious,  and,  consequently,  more 
honest  description,  had  been  steadily  pouring  in, 
and  the  ultimate  extinction  of  the  Indian  title  to 
tne  lands,  was  nn  event,  of  itself,  to  strike  a  fatal 
blow  at  the  security  of  the  *  governrnent-against-    *£ 
law*  in  Conelachita.     How  the  people,  furious  ^ 
in  consequence  of  the  most  frequent  and  auda-      , 
.cious  murders,  to  say  nothing  of  robberies,  rushed  t  *.' 
en  masse  into    the  swamp- fastnesses,  and,  with?  ' 
shot,  and  sabre-stroke,  and  halter,  put  nn  end  to   IO 
the  dynasty  of  the  outlnw,  in  that  quarter,  needs    8 
only  to  be  glimpsed  at  here.     The  affair  was  one 
of  immense  interest  to  the  country  at  large,,  and 
of  a  peculiarly  delicate  interest  to  me.     I  read 
the  accounts  of  the  progress  of  the  regulators,  as 
they  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the  papers  of 
the  Southwest,  with  an  exciting  and  painful  anx- 


HELEN    IJAL3EV.  215 

ty.     The  fate  of  the  poor  father  —  of  the  really 

jod  Bush  Halsey  —  unfortunately  cursed  with 

>  bad  a  brother  —  was,  in  particular,  a  matter 

:>on  which  1  brooded  with  an  almost  unremit 

ting  thought.     I  could  not  forget  how  dear  he 

•as  to  me,  not  only  as  the  father  of  my  wife,  but 

•n  his  own  account.     From  him  I  had  met  with 

lothing  but  what  was  considerate  in  kindness, 

nd   affectionate   in   consideration.      I   resolved 

•  inally,  in  order  to  quiet  rny  own  thoughts,  to  seek 

out  his  fate  —  to  see  whether  he  had  perished  with 

the  rest  —  in  the  indiscriminate  massacre  which 

had  befallen  the  miserable  wretches,  with  whom 

he  was,  but  of  whom  he  was  not  !    Circumstances 

wore  now  not  so  unfavorable  to  such  a  search. 

The  country  along  the  route  was  tolerably  set 

tled.     The  rogues  had  generally  given  way  to  a 

better  r<i<+}  of  men.      Even   '  Plain  Yannaker  ' 

<iad  rr        tracks,  and  removed  with  his  teraphim 

into     ,/  'wilderness.      Travelling   was   secure. 

Broad  roads  were  opened  through  regions  once 

traversed  only  by  the  Indian  foot-trail  ;  and,  with 

bitter-sweet  recollections  rising  at  every  step,  I 

once  more  penetrated  the  well-known  and  onco 

mysterious  recesses  of  Conelachita.     How,  as  I 

went  along,  the  present  dilated  in  homily  upon 

the  past.     I  flattered  myself  that  I  had  grown 

wiser,  and  this,  notion  reconciled  me  to  many  a 

rloomy  recollection.     But  in  these  1  will  not  in- 


Once  more  I  found  the  cottage  in  the  Swamp,. 
in  which  I  had  wedded  my  poor  Helen.  It  was 
iu  the  'possession  of  a  squatter,  whom  I  bought 
•  at,  taking  care  that  my  titles  in  the  land-ofiico 
^hould  supply  any  deficiencies  in  his.  But,  cro 
this  was  done,  taking  a  boat,  with  a  single  servant 
I  made  my  way  down  the  stream  upon  which  1 
had  sped  that  fatal  night  with  Helen  and  ho 


21 6  1IELEX    I1ALSET. 

father.    I  recognized,  with  a  thrill  of  the  keene.s< 
emotion,  the  little  bayou,  in  the  scoop  of  whicj 
our  bark  had  lain,  hidden  by  the  overhanging 
shrubs  and  willows,  in  waiting  for  Bush  HUlse^ 
It  was  there  that  she  had  rested  in  my  arms- 
silent,  tearful,  with  the  love  within  her  heart,— < 
and  O!  how  little  dreaming  of  the  sudden  nnt( 
tcrritjle  fate  which  stood  in  waiting  for  her,  but  .i( 
little  mile  below.     1  turned  from  the  spot  with  d 
heart  too  tremulous  to  be  trusted  to  contempla* 
tion.     Then,  as  the  fatal  point  rose  in  view,  or 
which,  crouching  with  his  n.^     Melons,  Bud  KaN 
%       sey  issued  the  stern  order,  ^nd  sped  the  murder 
ous  shot,  I  shuddered  with  horrors  such  as  did 
not  thrill  me  then.     Little  then  did  .1  foresee  the 
brutal  haste,  the  reckless  resolution, .with  which 
that  fierce  uncfo^would  carry  out  Ir^ihrent.     I-' 
groaned  from  the' bottom  of  "my  heart-errand  the'j 
paddle'escaped  rnygirasp.    This  incidc.^hcix^kcn-  ^ 
•  ed  me,  and  I  recovered  myself.     It  Tv^nl  it  a  j 
long  while  before  we  reached  the  island.     Tnere, 
wo  drew  the  boat  ashore,  and  I  hurried,  without 
drluy,  toward  the  secluded  spot  whero  the  woman 
of  my  heart  lay  buried.,    1  was  met  by  a  bowed . 
.  form — a  diminutive,  withered,  white-headed  old 
man — almost  bent  double.     His  hair,  of  the  most.  ' 
silvery  whiteness,  covered  his  back.     His  beard 
was  similarly  white  and  long.     It  was  he  !     It 
was  the  father  !     He  knew  me  at  a  glance  ;  and, . 
as  if  I  could  have  but  a  single  object,  he  took  me 
V-  by  the  hand  gently,  and  said  : —  *" 

•  "Come  " — in  the  sweetest  accents,  and  led  me" 
at  once  to  the  grave  of  Helen  ! 


THE    END.  • 


CL    145    1 

•J 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEEL 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
the  date  to  which  renewed. 

are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


General  Li! 
University  of  Ca 
Berkeley 


LD  2lA-60m-4,'64 
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